


I saw you lying there.

by Justley



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: (just in case you were wondering), Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Boys In Love, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-12-11 11:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 87,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11713620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justley/pseuds/Justley
Summary: Rick Grimes is a police officer, a divorcee and a lonely soul until one night he gets a call out to a traffic accident which turns his world around.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that I've been working on since Oct/Nov 2016 and it's taken me this long to finish it between stops and starts and a lot of frustration. 
> 
> It's beta'd by the amazing TWDobsessive who spotted a small snippet I posted on the Rickyl Writers Group way back when I'd only written the first chapter and had no idea where it was going. She fell in love with the summary of the story and asked me if I would let her Beta it - who on earth am I to say no when one of TWD's biggest and most prolific, well known authors asks to beta my work?! 
> 
> If it weren't for tweedo, this fic would not have made it past chapter 4, it would have stayed as a crappy WIP in my docs account and I would have ended up hating it. 
> 
> Tweedo is the one who encouraged me constantly, who told me the words I wrote were not absolute shite (which I thought, constantly) she put ideas in my head and nudged me in the right direction. Her comments and edits were always funny, expressive and without fail made me a better writer. 
> 
> Thank you Tweedo my love <3
> 
> Also thank you to the guys over at the RWG who hashed out details with me and helped me through many episodes of writers block which made me want to tear my pretty purple hair out. (ESPECIALLY, Marooncamaro who never fails to be there for me when I lose confidence in my writing!)
> 
> This story is 20 chapters long (including the epilogue) and is the longest, most in depth piece of writing I have completed to date. More importantly, this is the longest Rickyl fic I have ever written.
> 
>  Updates will be posted twice a week on Saturdays and Tuesdays (Uk time!).
> 
> Hit subscribe and join me for a sweet ride :D

  


"Lincoln 7 respond to Old Ivy Road for an accident involving 2 vehicles, medics en route."  
  
"Lincoln 7 responding 10-4 hold me en route."  
  
Officer Rick Grimes had been working for Atlanta PD ever since the day he graduated from the academy straight out of college. He’d had his childhood friend Shane Walsh by his side on every call from the day they first set foot in their cruiser together, up until two years ago when Rick's wife; Lori, had packed her bags, handed him divorce papers and walked out of their marital home and straight into Shane Walsh's bed. It'd been years since he'd seen either one of them and honestly, after finding out they'd been having an affair for most of his and Lori's marriage, he never wanted to see either of them as long as he lived. He missed Lori sometimes. He'd wake in the morning and reach over to her side of the bed, still half asleep before he remembered, the cold feeling in his hand from the empty bedsheets beside him slowly creeping up through his arm and making it's way back into his heart. He misses Shane more in some ways. They'd known each other since they were small boys, always inseparable, where you found Shane, you found Rick and that sort of friendship was hard to replace. Not that he hadn't tried to move on, he'd made new friends on the force, of course, though none even came close to the type of friend Shane had been. He'd been on a few dates too, mostly set up by the guys at the station but none of them had really gone anywhere so he'd given up and thrown himself into his work instead.  
  
It's already been a long night on patrol and Rick was feeling tired. He and his partner had just been about to drive to a diner and grab a cup of strong coffee each when the call came in. He flicks the lights and sirens on, with a quick nod to his current partner of 18 months, Morgan Jones, a man with whom he happily trusts his life on a daily basis. They speed through the darkened streets of Atlanta, the world around them already asleep in the small hours of the morning, hoping that this call won't end up with a bad outcome.  
  
The EMTs are already at the scene when they arrive, two ambulances, one flipped SUV, a jeep situated roadside and a motorcycle which looked to be unharmed. The lights from the rigs flash bright in the darkness, they bounce off the trees lining the road and as Rick pushes himself out of the cruiser his eyes take a moment to adjust. Rick offers a grateful sigh at the stationary bike parked roadside and still intact, motorcycle versus car calls hardly ever have happy endings. He can only hope that the fact that the bike is still parked means the rider escaped unharmed.  
  
They leave the cruiser in the middle of the road, lights still spinning in order to stem any flow of traffic and act as a warning to other motorists that may come their way while they head over to speak to the EMTs. Morgan hurries to to trunk and pulls the traffic cones from within, spreading them out behind the cruiser to warn oncoming traffic just incase they don’t see the flashing lights ahead.

  
The first rig they come across has a woman sitting with a small girl on her lap on the ledge between the wide open doors, they're roughed up with a few minor facial injuries seeping blood, the woman has her arm already trussed up in a sling but neither of them are critical so Rick heads over. The woman looks to be in her late forties, medium length brown hair tied in a complicated knot at the base of her skull, little wisps of hair escaped and plastered to the sides of her face with sweat and blood. The girl on her lap is around nine years old, same hair colour, same eyes. She has dark circles under them, evidence of the late hour. They’ve probably been on the road for a while; not from round here then.  
  
"Good evening ma'am, I'm officer Morgan Jones can you tell me what happened here please?" Morgan steps forward and takes a knee beside the woman, holding a notepad and pen in his hand with a neutral expression on his genial face. Rick stands back and allows his partner the space to work while he swivels in place, taking in the scene around him and trying to fit the puzzle pieces together himself.  
  
"I…god there was a deer and I swerved but…I don't know what…it all happened so fast." The woman babbles. Her voice shakes as she speaks, obviously suffering from shock. She clutches the girl who appears to be her daughter tighter in her arms, stroking the girl’s hair tenderly while the little body shakes with silent tears. Rick looks around, trying to make sense of the shadows. There’s no deer carcass spread across the road thankfully, that’ll make cleanup easier and he won’t be left calling animal control.  
  
"It's ok ma'am, take a deep breath,” Morgan soothes. “You're ok now. What happened next?"  
  
"The car rolled and we couldn't get out, he came and pulled my daughter out then me and oh god it was horrible it just came out of nowhere! I couldn't…" She begins to cry, body shaking from the cold and the shock. "He saved us then the car just hit him and he flew, God he actually flew through the air. He saved us. Please tell me he's gonna be ok?"  
  
Rick can see the woman is obviously distraught and places a soothing hand on her shoulder, after glancing briefly behind him at the other EMTs working near to the ground. "The paramedics will take good care of him don't you worry," he says kindly, "you just worry about healing up, you and your daughter, they're going to take you along to the hospital and we'll come and take an official statement when you're all patched up ok?" Rick glances down at the little girl, aiming his comforting words in her direction to ease her fear. She looks back up at him, her eyes wide and watery, tear tracks leaving a trail in the blood staining her cheeks.  
  
They stand and head over to where the man who'd pulled the woman and her child out of the car is still lying on the ground. The EMTs are trying to stabilise his neck in a brace and lift him onto a stretcher, his helmet already having been removed. Rick winces when he sees the shape the man is in, he looks horrific, blood pouring freely from a head wound, road rash covering one side of his cheek. Thank god he was wearing leathers, Rick thinks, but that hasn't saved him from the worst of the impact. He can clearly see even from this distance that his shoulder is dislocated and his left leg looks a mess. The man is unconscious, pale and grey in colour, Rick’s stomach drops as his gaze travels over the mess of a man on the ground, fear coiling around his insides that maybe the ambulance crew had arrived too late this time.  
  
"He was hit and thrown a fair distance, seems like he's a bit of a hero," the female EMT says. "He's got a fairly bad head lac so we need to get him moved pronto, you won't be getting a statement from him anytime soon, if he makes it that is," she says with a grimace as they bundle him into the ambulance, doors slamming with a ring of finality before taking off towards the hospital, lights flashing and sirens blaring.  
  
"Excuse me, sir." Rick approaches the driver of the second car sitting on the gurney inside the second rig with a vacant stare as another EMT takes his vitals and flits around the truck. "Officer Grimes,” Rick says, kneeling before the man, dipping his head and catching his gaze. “This is my partner Officer Jones can you tell us what happened please?"  
  
"I was just coming over the hill back there and he….I didn't see him. God, is he gonna be ok? I saw that woman's car and I was slowing down then suddenly he was there and I hit him. Fuck please don't tell me he's dead. I can't have killed someone, please tell me he's ok? I didn't see him! I swear!" The man looks horrified, scared and pleading as his red-rimmed eyes bore into Rick’s as if he’s the one that holds the power to change whatever outcome they’re facing.  
  
"Ok sir try to calm down,” Rick tries to help soothe the man by lowering his voice and keeping eye contact until his breathing starts to slow and he receives a subtle nod to continue. “So far he's alive but he's critical,” the man’s shoulders drop along with his chin as a clear wave of relief washes over his frame. “We'll be able to find out more as soon as we get to the hospital. Now, can you tell me your name?"  
  
They manage to get a rough preliminary out of the man; Martin Roberts, 48 passing through from Jacksonville, before leaving him to the EMTs. His licence checks out, he’s just a regular guy. He didn't have any obvious injuries, just a touch of whiplash from the impact but he'd be taken to the hospital and treated for shock alongside the woman and her child.  
  
Once they are all packed away into the ambulances, Rick calls in for highway patrol to come and section off the road and for recovery to head over and move the vehicles. He thinks it's a small mercy that it's quiet tonight and no one else had been hurt. It’s far from the first time he’s been called to an accident on this stretch of road, it’s what he likes to refer to as a ‘red spot’ claiming more than a few lives since he’s been on the force.

  
"Dispatch, this is Lincoln 7, all casualties en route to the hospital, I need a licence plate check please," Rick says into the radio, reading off the bikes plate and waiting for the response. Rick leans forward, his forearms braced across his knees and head hanging low. He scrubs a hand across his forehead, wiping away the sheen of sweat that’s accumulated there in the last half an hour as he waits for dispatches response.  
  
"Lincoln 7 those plates are for a Triumph Bonneville TR6C registered to one Daryl Dixon."  
  
"Dispatch can you repeat that please?" Ricks heart freezes in his chest, skips a beat completely and he feels as though he's got something lodged in his throat because surely he'd heard that wrong? The blood rushes so loud in his ears that he barely hears the static on the radio crackling through again as Dispatch reply.  
  
"Lincoln 7, I repeat licence plate belongs to a Mr. Daryl Dixon registered to Atlanta 4409."  
  
"She said Daryl Dixon, right?" Rick asks, his head whipping round, staring wide eyed at his partner beside him in the cruiser. "You heard that? Dixon? Right?" The last word comes out a faint rasping whisper as his throat closes in panic around the sound.  
  
"Yeah that's what I heard. Hey, Rick, are you ok?" Morgan asks, placing a hand on Rick’s shoulder and gripping tight. His face showing concern regarding the absolutely horrified look on his partner's face. "Someone you know?" Quieter this time because he knows just by looking at Rick that yes, Daryl Dixon is someone his partner knows.  
  
"Dixon is a common name right? But Daryl Dixon? No, it can't be the same." Rick's not even really talking to Morgan. His mouth is vomiting words in disbelief and abject horror, the blood, the body sprawled on the ground, strapped to a stretcher and carried off. It couldn't be the same Daryl Dixon could it?  


It'd been so long ago, the last time he set eyes on Daryl and the man on the ground looked in such a bad state it was difficult to make out his features. Of course he'd not been looking to see if he recognised the man before he was carted away, just scanned over the injuries. He couldn't be sure it was the same Daryl he once knew, though part of him hoped it was, that he'd found this man again, that fate had somehow pulled them together across a wasteland of time. The other part pleading that it wasn't, that it was just a coincidence; that the name Daryl Dixon was common enough to be someone else. He remembered Daryl like it had been yesterday. They'd grown up in the same town, though they came from opposite ends with very different backgrounds, separated by the social divide.  
  
Daryl had been the first boy he'd ever had a crush on, long before he even knew what the term 'bisexual' meant, before he even knew what love meant. It was only years later when he was already dating Lori that he finally realised that his fascination with Daryl was infatuation, not curiosity.  
  
Daryl Dixon was the local redneck boy, kids whispered about him and his family in the schoolyard, parents warned their kids to "stay away from the Dixon boy, he's trouble just like his brother." His family lived on the bad side of town, past the trailer park and hidden away within the woods where stolen cars were dismantled in front yards and men sat on porches drunk and waving shotguns around. The women wore short skirts and bad perms or dirt stained pants and no bras. Daryl came from rough stock and none of the kids Rick hung around with at school would even dare set foot across the invisible divide along the town.

Rick hadn't listened to all that shit though. He'd tried to talk to Daryl many times throughout high school, sometimes he'd get a glare and a low "fuck off Grimes" for his troubles before Daryl would pull up the hood of his hoodie, shove his hands into the pockets and stalk off, not even bothering to look back. Other times though, the times he'd find Daryl hiding behind the school buildings smoking, those times Rick would be allowed to stay, to talk for a bit and share the cigarette with him. They’d lean against the worn old brick, out of sight of the teachers and other students and pass the stick between them. Daryl would always pull off the most perfect smoke rings, thin lips pursing into a tight circle and Rick would reach out and slice a finger through each one before the wind took it away. Rick used to love the way Daryl could make the smoke pour out of his mouth and up into his nose like some kind of reverse waterfall. Whenever Daryl did that trick, Rick would watch transfixed at the way Daryl’s lips would fall open softly and his eyes would always find Rick’s and hold his gaze.  
  
He remembers seeing Daryl riding on a motorcycle then. Was it the same bike they'd just left with highway patrol? He couldn't remember, he hadn't looked close enough at it before Morgan had set off for the hospital. It could have been, he thinks. He remembers the bike had been Daryl's brothers, Merle Dixon. The first time he'd ever seen Daryl pull up at the high school, legs wrapped around the sleek machine, strong arms gripping tight to the handles and bulging with the muscles of youth had made him feel light headed. At the time he'd put it down to the four mile run he had done after breakfast that morning but as he got older he realised it had nothing to do with the run and everything to do with the vision that was Daryl Dixon on a motorbike. He’d looked like something out of a movie, with a thick and worn leather jacket wrapped around him and pulled tight across his slip waist. His strong legs would grip the bike powerfully and Rick would never forget the sight of those old, ratty biker boots with the denim of Daryl’s jeans shoved roughly inside and how it didn’t matter that they weren’t brand new and shining. They made Daryl look older, rougher; bad.  
  
"Rick, you ok?" Morgan breaks him out of his reminiscent reverie with a gentle pat to his knee. He must look bad because Morgan is driving and it's always been Rick who drives.  
  
"Yeah, sorry I zoned out, I think I know him," he explains trying to clear the frantic buzzing in his ears. He takes a deep breath and lists the dates of his parents birthdays to settle his nerves and bring him back to the moment, a tactic that never fails to calm him. "Knew a guy in high school called Daryl Dixon. There can't be that many men with that name even in the south surely? I mean, what are the odds though?" He's babbling and he knows it but at least the frantic shaking of his hands and the rapid pounding of his heart has slowed and he feels more in control. "Fuck, if it's him, I just hope he's gonna pull through."  
  
"You wanna call in? Get Abe in to cover the rest of your shift?" Morgan asks as they pull up to the hospital and head inside.  
  
"Lets just see how he is first and if it is really him," He says, before approaching the nurses station, handing over their badges and asking for an update on all four involved in the crash.  
  
The nurse tells them that the woman, Jessica Stanford and her daughter Millie are fine, a few minor scrapes and a touch of shock but nothing else. They would be kept overnight for observation due to Millie's young age but released in the morning if all was well. The man from the jeep, Martin Roberts, as suspected, had whiplash and was also being treated for shock but otherwise showed no other signs of injury.  
  
Daryl, however, was still being worked on, they were prepping him for surgery. Rick’s stomach churns and makes him feel sick. So far they had established that his shoulder was in fact dislocated and he also suffered a head wound which had caused a small bleed on the brain. They were taking him to surgery to try and stem the bleed and were keeping him sedated for the time being.  
  
They'd managed to find ID on him and gave Rick a list of personal information, his age, address and next of kin. Morgan copied all the details into the report book while Rick stood, unable to move because it was the very same Daryl Dixon from his youth. He was the right age and his next of kin was listed as one Merle Dixon. Even if Daryl Dixon was a common name in the south, the chances of finding one with a brother called Merle, well that just didn't happen.  
  
"Have we got a number for Merle Dixon?" Rick asks the nurse who checks the computer then shakes her head. "'Morgan, get onto the station and see if we've got any details on Merle. If he's anywhere near Atlanta no doubt we'll have him on record. If I remember right Merle is no stranger to the inside of a holding cell,” He says with a grimace at his memory of the brash, opinionated; knuckle happy older Dixon.  
  
While Morgan gets busy calling in the station, trying to get hold of Daryl's next of kin; Rick goes and gets a full statement from Mrs. Stanford and Mr. Martin before heading to the vending machine and buying Morgan and him the coffees they now desperately need. One of the young nurses smiles at him as he walks past and Rick tries hard to return it but he can’t make his face work right. By the way her face drops, she must understand.    
  
"Rick,” Morgan calls to him as he wanders over, clipping his radio back into its sleeve as he comes. “Tracey just called through, Merle Dixon died three years ago of an overdose. The only other contact on file was the father, William, but he passed away over 10 years ago now. Looks like our guy is on his own,"  Morgan says kindly, taking in Rick's state of exhaustion and knowing it's not solely from the long night they'd already experienced.  
  
"Alright, ok. Shit. _Damnit Merle_ ." Rick curses, banging his fist against the back of the chair beside him. Damn Daryl's brother for being a selfish asshole and leaving Daryl alone just to chase that final high. Rick clenches his fist around the sudden sting and takes a calming breath, "Right, I'll update the nursing staff."  
  
"You sure you don't want me to call Abe? You know he won't mind covering for you, you've done him enough favours over the years," Morgan asks taking the coffee that Rick hands him and bringing it to his nose before grimacing at the smell. Hospital coffee is always the worst and unfortunately Rick and Morgan are far too familiar with it in their line of work.  
  
"No, no, we've only got another few hours on shift,” he says absently, his mind fixed firmly on the memories of the Dixon boys. He checks his watch quickly, then straightens his spine, steeling himself for the rest of his shift. "We've got paperwork to do anyway."  
  
"Ok, let's get back to the station, then we can get you home to get some sleep. You look dead on your feet." Morgan pats him gently on the shoulder as they walk back towards the nursing desk. There’s nothing left for them to do here, statements have all been collected and the hospital staff have their badge numbers incase they need to get in contact with them. All that’s left is for them to head back to the station, write up their reports and get a debrief before heading home. Rick just hopes fervently that they won’t get anymore call outs before they finish. He’s not quite sure whether he can keep his head in the game at this point.  
  
"I'm not going home Morgan. I'm coming back here as soon as we're off," Rick says and the look on his face tells Morgan that there's nothing on this earth that could keep him away from this hospital as soon as he's free to come back. When Rick Grimes makes a decision about something, he sees it through to the end.  
  
"Alright buddy, let's get on back."  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick returns home then takes a visit to the hospital to see how Daryl is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A MASSIVE thank you to everyone who read chapter 1 and left me a kudos, comment and hit the subscribe button! 
> 
> This fic has played a MASSIVE part of my life over the last almost year and hearing that you all enjoyed that first chapter was a giant ego boost for me! I was amazed at the contents of the comments, keep them coming! 
> 
> Thank you again to Tweedo for beta'ing this, the longest fic I've ever reading and not only has she done a great job with it, she's also a bloody superstar for touting it for me! 
> 
> I also forgot to give a special mention to HigherMagic on the first chapter, she helped me out with some of the 'police' stuff - seen as the forces work differently here in the UK where I'm based compared to the US. Thank you Magic for sending what must have been some really random texts to your cop-friend for me!

  
  


Somehow, the apartment feels even lonelier than usual when Rick arrives home. It's dark because he forgot to open the curtains when he left for his latest shift so he quickly heads over and pulls them back. The light streaming in does nothing to make the place feel warmer or more inviting. In fact, it has the opposite effect. The sunshine drifting in and settling across every surface, opening up even the darkest corners just reinforces how empty the place is. Basic and cold. He needs to decorate. Stark white walls that he never even considered painting before suddenly make him feel like an intruder in some monochrome life and he's desperate for colour. He drops his bag next to the door and heads straight for a long overdue shower, turning the water to cold in an attempt to wake himself up.    
  
He's tired, exhausted even. Rick can feel it in the way his feet throb, his calves ache and his shoulders feel tight and tense. Last night was the last in a stint of four night shifts and he knows he should sleep right now but he can't because he can't stop thinking about a man lying in a hospital bed, battered and bruised, with no one there for him except nurses and doctors.    
  
Even though Rick knows Daryl will be unconscious for a while he wants to go back and sit with him. That’s if he's even out of surgery yet, they’re probably still working on him, scalpels slicing through flesh and the frantic beeping of monitors reading his life signs. Rick knows there's no way he'd be able to get into bed and sleep knowing Daryl might die on the table with no family or friends there for him.    
  
So he hurries, washing himself hastily under the frigid spray, not even bothering to shave or try and tame the mop of curls on his head before heading into the bedroom to get dressed.    
  
He pulls on sweat pants and his old academy t-shirt but just as he's slipping on his shoes he thinks that wearing his uniform might just be a better idea. He's not next of kin after all, or family. He doesn't even know if Daryl will remember him, they'd known each other such a long time ago. The nursing team might not let him in or give him any information if he goes in plain clothes. If he wears the uniform though, chances are they'll give him full access, especially with him being the attending officer at the scene of the accident. With the decision made, he pulls out a crisp, clean set of blues and throws them on as quickly as he can.    
  
He grabs a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, wolfing them down at top speed, anxious to get back to the hospital and check in. He can't help worrying that Daryl might not make it. People die on the table all the time, for stupid reasons like heart failure and rare reactions to anesthetic. Daryl really had bad shape too.    
  
Rick doesn't bother washing the dishes, just adds them to the already full sink. Evidence of his sorry microwave meal for one from last night and his sad single bowl from breakfast yesterday. Somehow, staring at the dirty dishes makes him feel even more alone.    
  


 

~*~

  
"Hi, I'm here to get an update on a Mr. Daryl Dixon, I believe he was taken into surgery early this morning?" Rick asks the nurse at the front desk, it's a different one from last night so he shows her his badge.    
  
"Ah yes," she nods, tapping the keys across the computer and bringing up his file "Daryl Dixon, pedestrian versus vehicle, brought in around 2am this morning?"   
  
"That's right, is he out of surgery yet?" Rick asks, fingers gripping the underside of the desk. His knuckles are white with the pressure of his fingernails digging into the veneer.    
  
"He came through the surgery ok, they have him in recovery and he's due to be transferred to ICU in the next hour," she says kindly.    
  
"So he made it through? Thank God," he sighs, letting go of his grip on the desk and running his hand across the light dusting of stubble along his jawline. He turns his back to the nurse and leans his ass against the desk willing his heartbeat to calm down before turning back around.    
  
"Is there somewhere I can wait until he's ready for visitors?" he asks hoping that she won't send him away but knowing that he's not allowed in recovery. This isn't the first time he's kept vigil in a hospital waiting for someone to come out of surgery.    
  
"You'll be able to visit him once he's set up in the ICU but if it's a statement you're after I'm afraid it's doubtful he'll be able to help with that for a while yet," she frowns, taking in his uniform with a quick glance up and down his body.   
  
"Of course. I understand, even so if you can show me where I can wait?" Rick uses his official voice in the hopes that she won't question his motives any further and is happy to find that it works. He's shown into the family waiting room and another nurse tells him that she'll come and get him as soon as Daryl has been transferred.    
  
The chairs dotted around the room are hard and have a plastic feel to them. The room itself is cold, decorated in pastel colours with framed paintings of cornfields, mountains and the seaside littered across the walls. He supposes it's meant to be calming, peaceful or homely. Maybe it is. Maybe it's just him that feels the cold dread and emptiness infiltrating his head like a cancer. The lights are harsh fluorescent tubes that burn his tired eyes and make the place seem clinical. Still, he's so exhausted he really  _ could _ sleep just about anywhere, so he pulls over a second chair and slumps down. He places his feet up, arms folded across his chest and head tilted back. He closes his eyes, willing himself to rest.    
  
  
"Officer?" A hand taps him lightly on the arm, gently pulling him back into awareness. Rick hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looks at the man standing beside his chair. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I'm Noah, I'm on Mr. Dixon's nursing team. I was told to come and fetch you once he was situated in ICU. Would you like to see him?"   
  
Rick stands quickly, his knees cracking loudly. He wipes his palms down his body, brushing out the creases in his shirt and re-fastening his coat buttons. "Yes, thank you, lead the way." He says gesturing for Noah to go ahead of him.    
  
"So, just to warn you, he's gonna look a mess for a while. He's still on the ventilator and that can look scary as hell but it's just to help him breathe," Noah explains as he leads the way through corridor after corridor of sterile walls and bleeping alarms. "I know you probably already know this being a cop and all but it's always handy to remind visitors before they step foot in the room." They turn another corner and Noah presses his ID card against the lock beside the large double doors. They swing inwards and Rick is hit with the harsh sting of citrus scented chemicals that assault his nose.    
  
It's quiet, he notes. The whirring and bleeping of machines muted behind large glass walls that separate each patient, kept apart in their own private bays. The nurses and doctors converse in low tones as they bustle around checking vitals, administering medication and scrawling notes across piles of paperwork.   
  
"Just in here." Noah nods and pulls open the sliding glass door, stepping aside to let Rick past. He places one foot inside the room and is rooted to the spot. Daryl looks terrible. Bandages cover the majority of his head, his torso is littered with black and purple bruising. His right arm is strapped across his chest, a ventilator tube taped to his mouth. He has wires trailing over his body, attached to his hand via a cannula and snaking out from under the bedsheets into a catheter bag propped up on a metal stand. Daryl's left leg is held off the bed, he can't see what's holding it up because of the sheet covering the most of Daryl's body but he assumes that it must be some sort of brace.    
  
"Here, you can sit here," Noah pulls over a chair to sit flush against the bed. "He's still sedated for now, brain surgery takes a lot out of the body. Dr. Singh doesn't expect him to wake for another day or two but you can still talk to him. You'll be ok here, man?"    
  
"Yeah, thanks," Rick mutters distractedly because he can't take his eyes of Daryl's face, trying to see if he can make out any familiar features. He can see the beauty mark just above his lip. He still has those same sharp cheekbones, that hasn't changed, neither has the vast expanse of the man's shoulders. They'd always been something that Rick was jealous of. They always seemed too wide to be real, even as a kid. His hair is darker than it was as a kid and longer too. He's surprised to see the almost black strands sticking out from underneath the bandages, just brushing the top of  Daryl's shoulders. He wonders whether it's darker because of the blood that hasn't been cleaned off yet, seeping into strands and staining them. Rick finds it surprising that they hadn't shaved the whole lot off before surgery, he thought that was usual practice.   
  
"Daryl,” he whispers quietly. He feels the hint of a blush creeping across his face, feeling silly for speaking to someone who obviously can't hear him but Noah is already sliding the doors shut behind him with a soft thud as he leaves to go back to the nurses station leaving Daryl and him alone.    
  
"I dunno if you'll even remember me or not, we went to school together back in Round Oak. Rick Grimes? We had math and biology class together, English, too, I think. I remember watching you dissect a toad one time, everyone else was squeamish and all the girls were pretending to puke but you? You just sat there and had it cut open before anyone else had even picked up the scalpels. I can't even remember what I said to you but you looked at me like I'd just insulted your grandma and said "s'jus a toad man" like it was the most natural thing in the world." Rick laughs at the memory, he'd been in awe of Daryl for getting a gross job done with no complaint, quickly and efficiently while everyone else in the room moaned and squealed, trying to get out of doing the lab.    
  
Rick feels himself relax, the steady buzzing of the machines and the soft sounds of the ventilator forcing air into Daryl's lungs acting like white noise and soothing his frayed nerves. He relaxes back into the chair and closes his eyes, not sleeping, just resting them while he continues to talk.    
  
"I heard about Merle, and your Pa, it's why I'm here really, didn't like thinking of you here all alone." He fiddles with a loose thread on the arm of his chair, considering his next words. "I'm sorry they're gone. I don't know if you've got anyone else out there who could be here for you, not until you wake up anyway. That nurse? Noah? He said it might take you a while to come round, said you had a bleed on the brain they had to stop. I'm gonna try and be here when you wake up," he says the last bit quietly, barely a whisper. It feels silly, saying it out loud when there's really no one to hear. "I hope you don't freak out at me being here and kick me out," he chuckles nervously, a grimace on his face instead of a real smile. "Or fuck, what if you don't remember me? And I'm just sitting here like some weird stalker?" He looks down at Daryl again, chest steadily rising and falling, the air flow hissing through the tubes coming out of his mouth.    
  
"S'what you used to call me back in school. I'd find you behind the science building, smoking and you wouldn't even need to look up to know it was me. I'd get a few feet away and you'd say 'what're ya stalkin me again, Grimes?' I always felt like you were trying to get rid of me, but then you'd hold out your hand offering me some of your smoke. I hated it, dunno why I always did it with you. Never smoked since you know?" he says gazing at Daryl fondly. It was true, he only ever smoked when Daryl would hold out his half finished cigarette offering him a taste. Sharing a little piece of himself with the kid that wouldn't leave him alone.    
  
"God that first time, you probably remember that. Think that was the first time I ever heard you laugh properly. I choked on it so badly, thought I was gonna puke all over your shoes. You laughed so hard you couldn't breath "don' hurt ya'self kid" you said, as if we weren't the same age," Rick snorts at the memory. “Don’t think I ever saw you laugh like that before.” Rick adds. 

  
He sits beside Daryl for hours, quietly talking, reminiscing about school. Rick falls asleep at some point, still tired despite his quick nap in the waiting room earlier. He vaguely hears medical staff sliding back the doors and entering the room in his sleep-hazed state but makes no move to wake. Just lets them take Daryl's vitals and check him over, they don’t need him to be awake, there’s no questions he can answer for them anyway; no information he can give that will help them do their jobs. It's only his need for the bathroom and to grab some lunch that tears him away from Daryl's bedside. He makes a stop at the nurses desk as he heads back from the coffee shop down on the first floor sometime in the late afternoon.    
  
"Hey, sorry," He interrupts one of the doctors sitting at the desk "I know you're busy, I was just looking for an update on Mr. Dixon in bay six? I think I was asleep when the resident came through earlier."    
  
"Sure officer…?" the woman eyes his uniform with an enquiring head tilt and a faint smile upon her lips.    
  
"Grimes. Officer Grimes but call me Rick," He offers his hand for a shake.    
  
"Well Rick," she smiles wider, encouragingly; showing off uniform white teeth. "We have another set of rounds in about fifteen minutes, I'm sure someone can come and fill you in then," the woman replies, checking her fob watch.    
  
"Ok thanks, uh one more thing, what time are visiting hours here?" he asks glancing at the clock. It's already five in the afternoon. He's shocked to realize he's been here all day.    
  
"Visiting hours finish at six in the ICU and restart again at nine in the morning. Would you like me to add your name to the list of visitors for Mr. Dixon?" She asks reaching for a stack of papers on the desk beside her and fishing out a pen from her tunic pocket.    
  
"Mhm, thanks Christina," Rick smiles reading her name tag. "I don't think he'll be having many other visitors for a while and I'd like to be able to come as often as I can."    
  
He lets her mark him down on Daryl's paperwork and heads back into the room, slumping down low into the chair and fixing his eyes on Daryl's face. He can't help willing the man's eyes to open even though he knows it's far too early.    
  
"Officer Grimes?" He didn't even hear the doors opening this time. Startled, he stands up quickly and comes face to face with four different doctors. If he weren't already familiar dealing with medical staff he'd feel intimidated. In that moment he’s grateful that he opted to wear his uniform today. "I'm Dr. Singh the attending resident on Mr. Dixon's case, I understand you're ready for an update on his condition?"  Rick nods and motions for him to continue. "Doctor Reed if you would?" He motions to the red headed junior doctor to his left who clears her throat and stands taller, looking Rick right in the eye as she begins.   
  
"Daryl Dixon 35 year old male brought into the ER this morning after being hit by a car at the scene of an accident. Mr. Dixon suffered a TBI causing a subdural hematoma which has now been rectified following a craniotomy earlier this morning. Mr. Dixon's secondary injuries consist of a dislocated shoulder, which has been now been reset and a fracture to his left fibula. He also suffered some minor lacerations to the chest, face and upper right arm and has extensive contusions across his torso." She pauses for a moment to let the information sink in before she begins again, this time a tender smile on her face. "We're keeping him sedated for the time being, however, we expect him to wake within the next 48 hours."   
  
Rick lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, rubbing his weary face in his hands, not for the first time today. "So he's gonna be ok?" He asks, dread and hope coursing through his body in equal parts.   
  
"There's always a risk with brain surgery but we're confident from the post-surgical scans that he'll make a full recovery, yes." Dr. Singh offers him a reassuring smile before heading back out of the large doors, the other three doctors following in his wake.   
  
It's Noah who comes to get him when visiting hours are over, ousting him from the room with nothing but kind words and a friendly smile. He sends Rick home with the promise that someone will contact him if Daryl wakes through the night and tells Rick to leave his contact number with the nursing staff.    
  
He can't go home just yet. Can't face the emptiness that his life has become, so he heads for a diner a few streets away from the hospital. Table for one, dinner for one and a beer to chase the loneliness. In the two years since Lori left he doesn't think the solitude has ever really affected him as much as it does now. He doesn't really understand why it's suddenly hitting him so hard. Maybe it's all the memories of his teenage years rushing back to him in droves. Reminding him of a time he was surrounded with friends and family. A time where he felt invincible with his life stretched out ahead of him and the world at his feet. Maybe he was numb before, just going through the motions and now the numbness is dissipating. The neat lock box of emotions has been hacked and everything is trickling back in.   
  
He puts down a twenty for the waitress when he leaves, she'd written her number on the back of the cheque and he hadn't taken it. She was pretty, a sweet face and kind eyes but he wasn't interested. All his thoughts were on broad shoulders, a beauty mark and the mottled purple of eyelids framed by fragile blonde eyelashes. He vaguely remembers Daryl's eyes had been blue but he couldn't seem to picture what shade they were.    
  
His apartment isn't any more appealing than when he left that morning. The dishes still call to him from the sink. An overflowing pile of laundry sits in a basket at the foot of the washer and there's beer bottles littered across the kitchen counter. He checks his phone, putting off the housework for yet another night. There's no calls. No messages, nothing. He throws it down on the sofa beside him. Irritated with the inanimateness of it. Morgan is at home spending time with Dwayne, Abe is running patrols and Carol is busy pulling shifts at the hospital.    
  
"Carol!" He shouts out in the empty space, why hadn't he thought about her before now?  He quickly snatches up the phone and dials her number, foot tapping a rhythm into the worn carpet beneath him as it goes to voicemail.    
  
"Carol, it's Rick. Shit you're probably at work already. Ok don't panic but can you give me a call when you're free? I got a friend in the ICU, I'll be there tomorrow I think. Just…just call me when you can." He rushes the words out, desperation clear in his tone.    
  
Before he heads to bed that night, Rick spends half an hour rummaging around the back of his wardrobe, underneath his bed and in the few abandoned boxes shoved in the spare room, still full of old trinkets and trophies from college that he never bothered to unpack. He finally lays his hands on a shoe box filled with old photographs, watermarked and curling at the corners. Lori features in most, young and beautiful without any of the signs of age that had graced her face when she'd walked out of his life. Shane's there too. His liquid amber eyes and million dollar smile beaming at him from each frame. He throws them aside, hungrily searching for what he knows  _ has  _ to be in here. There it is, right there at the bottom of the box, he holds it up in the light. It's a photo of Shane and some buddies Rick can hardly remember the names of but right there in the background, grainy and ever so slightly out of focus is a boy leaning his back against a tree at the edge of the field. Ankles crossed over in front of him, hands shoved deep in his pockets with his head tilted to the sky. A cigarette just about visible, dangling from his lips as opaque tendrils of smoke rise from his mouth. Frozen in motion forever.    
  
Daryl Dixon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day at the hospital for Rick and our first time meeting Carol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow the response to this little story so far has been truly amazing! Thank you all for your comments and the incredible amount of Kudos you've all given me already. Really is overwhelming. 
> 
> I'm really enjoying speaking to you all in the comments section and hearing what you have to say about the chapters - I've never had so many comments on a fic before and every time my email goes off I get a weird twisty feeling which is pretty great! 
> 
> Again, this wouldn't be here if not for the amazing Tweedo who beta'd this beast for me, for without her gentle nagging and encouragement it would never have seen the light of day! 
> 
> A little thanks again for Marooncamaro who talked me down and around, who listened to my complaints, helped me through the writers blocks and read every snippet i gave her with absolute joy! 
> 
> She has a fic running right now which is amazing and I urge you to go and read it if you haven't already! 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11251116

It's still dark when Rick opens his eyes. He lays there staring blankly at the ceiling trying to make out the patterns of shadows in the dim light creeping in from the crack in the doorway. He reaches his arm out to the dresser beside the bed feeling for his phone without tearing his eyes away from a particularly sinister looking shadow near the corner of the room. His phone lights up when his fingertips accidentally sweep across the buttons as he grasps it and it's so bright in the debilitating darkness that he's forced to squeeze his eyes shut and peek at it through slits to check the time on the blinding screen. It's 4am and he's not sure what woke him. He looks around the darkened room, listening for any sounds that may have startled him out of his slumber but hears none. Only the far off steady drip of the bathroom tap that he still hasn't gotten around to fixing. The muffled snores from the apartment next door and the faint sounds of early commuters driving past the block and heading into town. He wakes to find no calls on his phone and no messages. This little routine of silence is becoming frustratingly monotonous. It also means that Daryl hasn't woken yet.

Rick's glad he's off work again today. He's feeling a bit hungover from his little stint in the bar he’d eventually headed out to last night and the four or five beers he drained when he finally got home. Having the day off means he doesn't have to worry about heading back to bed, the white sheets and plump pillows have long ceased to appeal to him. A whole bed to yourself sounds like a good thing, a luxury even, but in reality it's vast and lonely. He's spent his entire adult life with a warm body to curl up next to and he hasn't really had a full, restful nights sleep since he's had both sides of the bed to himself.   
  
Rick drags himself out from under the covers and stumbles blearily into the kitchen, scratching the itch that tickles the side of his head where his curls have clumped together as he lay on them through the night. He walks, flicking the lights on as he goes down the hallway. The soft lighting comforting in the empty space. He grabs himself a glass of water and the last overripe banana from the fruit bowl he'd almost forgotten about and takes them back to the living room. Collapsing heavily into the couch cushion that already has his body shape imprinted into it, he switches on the tv. There's nothing on. Never is this time of night, just re-runs of bad sitcoms and the continuous loop of the news channels. He turns it to the news anyway and drops the volume down low, just the buzz of white noise in the background.   
  
Rick wakes again with a jolt. Sleep having crept up on him once more, taking him by surprise. The blackened banana skin is still splayed across his lap and the glass of water sits untouched on the coffee table before him. He stands, stretches out the rigid kinks in his back and neck and heads back to the kitchen, discarding the peel in the trash and wiping the sleep from his eyes. It's then he notices the clock and it takes him a moment to really see what it says as it flashes obnoxiously at him. He's shocked to see that he's wasted most of the morning already. Cursing himself, he rushes back to the bedroom and checks his phone once more. Finally he sees a message from Carol.   
  
_Hope everything's ok Rick. My shift starts at 7am. send someone to come and find me._

Heading to the bathroom Rick hurries through his morning shower, one of these days he'll get to relax and soak under the spray for as long as he wants and let his muscles unwind, but not today. He doesn't even take the time to shave again knowing he'll be doing it for work soon anyway and sort of enjoying the way the salt and pepper scruff looks on his face. He dresses quickly, tugging his clothes onto his still slightly damp skin as he's in too much of a rush to dry himself thoroughly. He forgoes his uniform today in favour of his favourite blue denim jeans, light brown button up and the comfiest set of boots he owns.    
  
Rick pauses by the front door, looking back over his shoulder for a moment into the apartment just as his hand reaches out towards the doorknob. The place looks like shit and he can't stand to look at it. He can't leave it like this one more day, can't come home to this again. So he slowly turns back around, feet putting up a valiant fight, straining to carry him out of the door and back to Daryl. He forces them nonetheless, pushing up his sleeves past his elbows and loading the washer before filling the sink and getting to work on the dishes.   
  
The sweet, rich scent of the pine suds hit Rick as he soaks his hands in the warm water, feeling the heat seeping into his skin and flooding him with a sudden feeling of relaxation. His mind wanders as his palms flex along the bottom of the sink. He thinks about decorating again, maybe green? No, Lori had painted almost every room in their marital home some shade of green. Not purple, too girly, yellow? No, far too bright and shiny for him. Maybe a shade of blue? Not like the pastel coloured walls of the family room in the hospital, more of a rich hue, something that would make him feel like he was sitting out in the open, staring up at the evening sky as the clouds roll past and the sun begins to set. He'd get some new curtains, too, some that let the light in even when closed. Not the thick, heavy cloth he has strung up now, that turn day into night as soon as they're drawn.   
  
Rick snorts at himself, realising he's been standing at the sink motionless for a full five minutes debating interior fucking design and wonders if this is really his life now? Long hours on patrol followed by an empty apartment with nothing better to do than consider paint palettes and soft furnishings.   
  
Rick stops at the same diner as he had eaten at last night. He grabs himself a sandwich, a couple of cans of root beer and a newspaper to take with him. There's no way he'll be sleeping as much as he had yesterday, not after wasting most of the morning snoozing on the couch. A motorcycle magazine jumps out at him from the racks of beauty and gossip mags and he pays for that, too. Daryl might appreciate it when he finally wakes. He's still not entirely sure why he keeps going back to the hospital. Why he's spending his days off sitting in a room talking to a body that doesn't hear him. He knows Daryl lives locally now, it wouldn't take a lot to find out where the guy works and show up one day, make it seem like a coincidence. The only things waiting for him outside Daryl’s room however are long shifts, an empty apartment, grocery shopping; bad movies and TV dinners. Rinse and repeat, over and over in an endless cycle. He had no idea it had gotten this bad. All this time he had just been going through the motions, surviving rather than living and he needs a change. He makes his way through the whitewashed corridors of the hospital, avoiding the orderlies as they steer patients through the wide doorways, watching the people as they bustle around him intently focused on their own business. A young man in the elevator smiles at him sheepishly as the doors close, Rick vaguely recognizes him and thinks it's probably from one of the many frat parties he's had to break up over the years. No one stops him when he makes his way back to ICU, no one asks him for ID or who he's there to see as he hits the buzzer and announces his name.   
  
"Rick, right?" Noah smiles as he buzzes Rick through.   
  
"How's he doing, Noah?" Rick asks, happy to see a familiar face, especially one so kind. He’s glad Daryl has someone like this kid on his team. Noah seems to be the kind of nurse who gets invested in his charges, someone who genuinely cares and isn't just doing the job because it pays his wages.   
  
"He's doing ok, come see for yourself." He leads Rick back to the same room as before, once again pulling back the sliding doors and pushing over a chair for Rick to sit in.   
  
"He's not woken up yet?" Rick asks looking down at Daryl, still black and blue and looking like utter hell. Some of the bruises across his chest have to turn a sickening shade of deep purple that makes Rick wince and the cuts and scrapes that litter his skin are red rimmed and angry looking.   
  
"Not yet but we took him off the ventilator, he's breathing on his own which is good." Noah motions towards Daryl. "Want me to leave you two alone?"   
  
"Please.” Rick nods. Then remembering something he adds, “Noah, do you know Carol Peletier?"

“Carol? Yeah, her and I work together sometimes, she's a great nurse.” Noah replies smiling.

“She's a friend of mine, can you page her and let her know I'm here?” Noah nods and Rick waits until the doors click shut behind him before relaxing back into the chair.   
  
"Daryl," he starts, thinking of what to say this time. "They took you off the ventilator, that's good. That means you can breathe for yourself now. I gotta tell you though man you look like shit," he laughs nervously.   
  
"Found a photo of you last night. Took me ages to find it but I knew I had one. Think it was after that careers day we had. We were all out on the school field, everyone was messing around and you were just leaning on that tree smoking, watching everyone else fuck about. Had a fight with Shane that day. He was being a prick, said some shitty things about you. I couldn't let him talk about you like that so we had a huge bust up. Told him to leave off you, that you were a good guy." Rick sighs at the memory. Shane had been calling Daryl a backwards redneck, that he'd probably end up flipping burgers. "I know why he did it. He told me years later that he didn't want me 'n you to be friends. He told me he thought I'd start hanging out with you and leave him behind. I don't know why he hated you so much, never understood it. We coulda all been friends you know?"   
  
Rick sits in silence for a while, thinking back over all the times he had to stop Shane from trying to pick a fight with Daryl or every time he'd start ragging on him to his jock friends. When he thinks about it now he realises he was so delusional back in high school. He'd been popular, had good grades, lots of friends and a few girlfriends scattered now and then throughout the years. He'd noticed Daryl stuck to himself more often than not, never really having many friends but he'd always thought it was because Daryl didn't really like the kids in the school. It didn't occur to him that he was an outsider because of how the other kids saw him. Because of his last name or his family's reputation.

"I married Lori you know?" Rick says quietly. It's a confession that still comes with a wince of pain at how he'd committed himself to Lori so fully, only to have her trade him in for his best friend. "I don't know if you remember her or not, we only started dating in college. Shane set us up, he kept trying to get us together in high school but I was too busy with my grades and track team back then. I think it was another way to keep me away from you to be honest. I think he knew I kinda had a crush on you, think he figured if I had a girl I'd forget about you." He pauses looking down at his hands and the space on his finger where his ring used to sit. Lori had left hers on the kitchen table when she left, he had worn his for another six months. When he did finally slip the gold band from his finger, it left behind a white strip of skin, a constant reminder of his vows before God. Even that had disappeared over time. "We got married right out of college. Moved to Atlanta, bought a house all the things you're supposed to do when you're a grown up. God, Daryl, I was such an idiot. I married her because I figured everyone expected it you know? Grow up, get married, get a good job. No one told me about the part where you're wife starts sleeping with your best friend. Or how when she walks out on you and they shack up together you have to sell your house and move into a shitty apartment for one." He can't help the bitter tone that creeps into his words and twist his lips as they spew like dysentery from his downturned mouth.   
  
Rick grunts. A derogatory sound, chastising himself for sinking back into his little wallow of self pity. He reaches down and pulls his sandwich out of the bag from the diner, grabs a can of root beer and his paper and tells himself that he's not to talk again until he can find something less depressing to speak about.   
  
The entourage of doctors make their way around to Daryl's room sometime later and he lets the words wash over him like the white noise of waves breaking on a shoreline. Daryl's recovery is going as well as expected, his vitals are good and they are beginning to wean him off the sedative. They spend less time in the room today than they had yesterday and Rick can only see that as a good sign.   
  
A few hours later, Rick is just finishing up the crossword that comes with the newspaper when the doors slide open again with a soft whoosh of air that blows a sweet aroma of rose blossoms and homecooking into the room.   
  
"Rick!" The familiar voice causes him to spin around in his chair.   
  
"Carol!" Rick stands and pulls her in for a brief hug. She squeezes him tighter than she normally does then holds him at arm's length, hands still gripping onto his biceps with reassuring pressure.   
  
"Are you ok?" she asks "I'm sorry I couldn't get over sooner, it's been crazy on the floor today. Two of the team called in sick. I mean Sarah hardly ever turns up for her shift these days what with her son and all," She speaks quickly, falling into their easy chatter before remembering that Rick is here for a reason. She lets him go, her kind eyes examining his face quickly before turning her gaze to the man lying on the bed. "Who is he?"   
  
Rick sits back down as soon as Carol releases him. Leaning over, elbows pressing into his knees and face cupped in his palms. "His name is Daryl, Daryl Dixon. He's a guy I used to know back in high school."   
  
"What happened?" Carol perches on the arm of his chair and wraps her arm around his back, softly running her hand up and down his shoulder in a comforting rhythm.   
  
Rick sighs before speaking. "Morgan and I got called out to an accident the other night. There was a woman who'd rolled her car with her daughter in the back. They were stuck, you know? Inside the car and he stopped and dragged them both out." He nods towards Daryl. "Then some guy in a jeep comes down the road, says he was distracted by the upturned car and didn't see him." He chokes on the last words, images of Daryl on the ground keep flashing behind his eyelids where his palms push against them. All that blood staining the asphalt even in the dark of the night. In Rick's mind it stands out a shockingly vibrant shade of red, seeping into the pavement. "He's a goddamn hero Carol and he's got no one."   
  
"Shhhh." she soothes, holding him tight. "It's ok, I know it's frightening seeing him like this." She pulls away and grabs for the chart hanging on the foot of the bed, taking a moment to read the notes before sitting herself back down with Rick. "He's gonna be ok. See here?" She points to a section of almost illegible scribbles. "It says here that his scans show normal brain function, that’s good, it means nothing’s been damaged. Ah, there,” She points to an almost illegible scrawl a few lines down, “it says here that he was lucid after surgery."   
  
"He was awake?" Rick asks suddenly, sitting back up quickly and peering at the notes. “Jesus Carol how’d you even read this stuff?” He teases, squinting at the chart in her hands.   
  
"They give you special training when you go to med school,” She nudges him lightly. “He was, for a little while anyway. They woke him after surgery - they tend to do that in trauma cases like Daryl's-  just to check their cognitive functions. It would've only been for a minute or two but it says here that they didn't see any lasting signs of damage." She smiles reassuringly at him.   
  
"So why isn't he awake yet?" Rick asks. "Surely if he's breathing for himself and his brain still works he should be awake already?"   
  
"You really care about him don't you?" she says quietly, placing the chart back in its holder at the foot of the bed. When she turns back to him her eyes lock onto Rick's as if she could see right past his skin and sinew reading his heart like a children's picture book.   
  
"I.....I'm just worried, I guess. Far as I can tell his family's all gone and no one's come looking for him yet." He stalls, not really wanting to, or knowing _how_ to make sense of the tight bands that have wrapped themselves around his heart and had pulled tight at Carol's words. He was just concerned for an old friend is all. An old friend who had no one else around to be worried for him. An old friend who he used to have a crush on. Completely normal, right?   
  
Carol hums softly in response and they share a silence, thick and laced with unspoken words. For a while he just listens to the rhythmic beeps on the heart machine, tracking Daryl's pulse while Carol’s eyes roam over Daryl's body as she picks at the cuticle on one of her short, clean nails. The quiet, the machinery, the silent companionship offered is steady and soothing and Rick feels an enormous weight lifting from his shoulders.   
  
"How's Sophia?" Rick finally asks. He hasn't seen Carol's little girl in a few months. He likes Sophia, she's sweet and timid but she's got a hidden strength. It was her who called him on his private number that he'd given Carol to use if she needed to. Sophia had called him to come and get her Dad, Ed. He was a bastard of a man who beat Carol and kept her locked in a reign of terror. Using his fists and ugly words to keep her cowering in a corner.     
  
Sophia had called him quietly sobbing late one night begging him in a whisper to come and take her dad down to the station. Rick and Morgan had flown round there only to find Carol unconscious on the kitchen floor littered with bruises. They found Ed trying to break Sophia's bedroom door down. He was plastered, spittle flying from his mouth like a rabid dog as he pounded into the fragile wooden door. The only thing standing between him and his daughter. Rick remembers it as clear as day, the overpowering stench of alcohol fumes mixing with the metallic sting of blood. He remembers aiming his gun at the feral man’s head and the darkest part of him pleading with Ed to turn on him and allow him the satisfaction of squeezing the trigger.   
  
"She's good Rick, really good." Carol beams at the mention of her daughter. She'd told Rick once that Sophia was the only reason she hadn't 'opted out' once Ed began beating her regularly. "She misses you."   
  
Rick laughs, a comforting little breath of a chuckle. "I miss her too, tell her I'll come see her real soon. I promise." He does miss her. She's such a sweet kid even if she does make Rick's heart ache that he never got the chance to have kids of his own. He'd wanted them but Lori had insisted her career was too important, that they'd have kids later when it was easier for her to take time off. He knew it was bullshit the moment she told him about Shane. Another piece of his life she stole from him.   
  
"You need to come over for dinner soon." Carol tells him, interrupting his little bout of maudlin self-pity. "Maybe you can bring Mr. Dixon here when he's back on his feet?"   
  
"As long as you promise to make me your chicken casserole, I mean I don't know about Daryl. I don't know if he's gonna remember me or if he's gonna want me around when he's awake but.....we'll see." Rick finishes lamely. "If not I'll just come on my own, Sophia still needs to teach me how to play that game of hers."   
  
"Good, I’ll let her know. No doubt she’ll bug me every day about it until you come over. I’ll warn you though Rick, you know how she gets, you get her started on her Pokemon and she’ll talk your ears off for hours.” Carol smiles indulgently at the thought of her daughter and how animated the serious little girl gets when she talks about her interests. Ed never let her have a games console but Carol had worked her ass off at the hospital to give her everything she missed out on when her father was around. “Ok my breaks almost over." Carol tells him, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Would it make you feel better if I drop in on him when I can?"   
  
"Yeah it would Carol. Look thank you. I know you’re busy when you’re here but it’d mean a lot if you can look in, or even just get an update once in awhile?" Rick takes her hand and gives it a little squeeze as she stands.   
  
"I'll make sure someone calls me if anything changes, I'm working in the CCU this week so I'm not far away." She hugs him again, gripping him tight across his shoulders before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek and letting him go.   
  
Rick watches Carol leave, thankful to have a friend like her. They didn't see each other often but whenever he needed her she never failed to be there for him. He makes a promise to himself that he'll see her more often. Sophia too.   
  
"Carol's a good woman, Daryl. Husband beat the shit out of her but she's strong. Strongest woman I've ever known. You'd like her, I think." Rick settles back into the chair again, crossing his ankles in front of him and folding his arms over his chest. He stares at Daryl's body and notices then the scarring underneath all the fresh dark bruises. The marks criss cross over his shoulder and look as though they continue on down his back. He notes a tiny scar underneath Daryl's left eye and smaller circular ones dotted down his arms. He's seen enough abuse cases, even before he met Carol to recognise the signs of lashings and cigarette burns. They look old, pinched and stretched as skin and muscle continued to grow around them and Rick wonders who did this to Daryl and when. It makes him angry, furious even. Rage rolling through his body at the thought of someone beating another person hard enough to leave scars like that. His thoughts jump to Sophia and what might have happened if she hadn’t made that one, desperate phone call. Would her body have turned out to look like Daryl's? He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes the pressure points there in an attempt to calm the fury he feels before picking his newspaper back up and reading a story about a horse that broke free of it's pen and went on a rampage through a local village, anything to stop his eyes roaming back to the battlefield that is Daryl's skin.   
  
Just like the day before, the nurses breeze in and out at regular intervals, checking Daryl's vitals and replacing his IV bag. Checking the fluid in the catheter bag and sometimes draining it to measure the amount. Rick smiles and lets them get on with their work. Noah comes in later in the afternoon and moves aside Daryl's sheet to check on the bruising across his torso chatting easily with Rick as he does. He’s gentle with Daryl's body, touching him lightly, almost tenderly as he redresses the wounds and checks for infection. Rick once again feels overwhelmingly comforted in the knowledge that both him and Carol would be watching over Daryl when he couldn't be here.   
  
All too soon visiting hours are over and it's time for Rick to head on home again. His stomach is grumbling at him and he's pretty sure his ass has fallen into a coma from being stuck on the same chair for the last two days. He stands and stretches, listening to the cracking of his own joints as he rotates his shoulders and flexes his ankles.   
  
"I'll come back again tomorrow, Daryl. Just you rest and work on getting better, okay?" Rick says quietly, watching Daryl's face for any signs of movement. He looks peaceful, even though he's pretty banged up. His lips are soft and relaxed, his eyes flicker subtly underneath their lids as if Daryl were simply at home, sound asleep in his own bed dreaming.   
  
Rick looks Daryl over once more grimacing at all the marks littering Daryl's body. He reaches out and tugs at the corner of the bed sheet where it's gotten caught under one of the wires. He pulls it straight again, smoothing it down underneath his palm. As he moves to pull his hand away it brushes against the back of Daryl's knuckles and Rick pauses. He's not sure why but he had almost expected Daryl's skin to be cold. He runs his fingertips over the back of Daryl's hand, gently tracing the ridges and veins before placing his palm down, cupping it in his own and curling his fingers into Daryl's palm, just holding him. He doesn't want to think about why his cheeks feel like they've been sitting next to a heating vent as he flicks his eyes back up to Daryl's face.   
  
"I'll come back tomorrow," Rick whispers, carefully letting go of Daryl's hand and heading out to find a bar because he really needs a drink.   



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick has his head screwed on a little better today, we see Carol again and Daryl......well......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for my bi-weekly thank you to Tweedo for beta'ing this fic! I've no idea where she gets the time to be honest as whilst she was slogging through this, she was also doing the same for Marooncamaro's curveball fic (which is awesome by the way!) 
> 
>  
> 
> anyway.....on to the chapter that you've all been waiting for.......

The shrill incessant ringing of a phone blaring into the darkened room startles Rick awake with a jolt, ripping him from a hazy dream of cedar and birch lined highways, the gentle roaring of a motorcycle and a deep feeling of content. The blissful dream fades fast and leaves him with a sense of loss as he wakes. Hastily reaching an arm out, his fingers scrabble frantically along the bedside table until they land upon the cold metal as it attempts to vibrate itself out of his reach and onto the floor below. He hits the call button without even glancing at the caller ID, bringing the phone to his ear before his eyes have fully opened.    
  
"Grimes here." Rick croaks groggily into the offending device. Clearing his throat harshly, he attempts to blink the sleep out of his eyes before rubbing a hand across his face wearily.    
  
"Ah, morning Richard." Chief Greene's gentle baritone confuses Rick's still sluggish brain and he frowns as he pulls the phone away from his ear to glance at the screen, confirming that he hadn't heard wrong. Hershel's voice surprised him, he hadn't expected the Chief to be calling at all, he had imagined for a moment that the call would be the hospital or maybe Carol telling him that Daryl had regained consciousness. For a split second Rick panics that he's overslept and is late for his shift but as the fuzziness of slumber rapidly diminishes he remembers that he still has another day off to take and it's only, he glances at the clock, 6am.    
  
"Uh, morning Chief, everything ok?" He rasps into the phone, bemused as to why Hershel might be calling him so early. He tenses slightly, aware that the call may herald some sort of emergency. Fully awake now, he swings his legs out of bed and plants his feet on the soft carpet.    
  
"Sorry to call you so early on your day off Richard," the Chief apologises. "I've had to pull Rosita and Abraham for debrief and I need you and Morgan to cover for a few hours," he explains, his tone beseeching.    
  
"Sure, sure Chief. I'll uh, just grab a shower and head over," Rick assures him, thinking he'd much rather stay in bed but if Hershel called him on a rare day off it must mean they're really stuck for help. "Want me to call Morgan?" he asks as he reaches for his slippers and pulls them on.    
  
"No need, I called him before you," Hershel explains. "He's already on his way in. Thank you Rick, you know I wouldn't dream of calling you in unless I was in a bind. I appreciate you helping out. I'll see you at the station." The line clicks off and Rick puts his phone back on the dresser and heads to the bathroom for yet another rushed shower.    
  
The drive to the station is quick and uneventful, the soothing sounds of country music drifting through the stereo calm his nerves and allow him to relax into the seat, one arm resting gently across the steering wheel with the other hanging out of the open window. He breaths in deep lungfuls of air, enjoying the early morning breeze as it brushes across his face and plays with his still damp curls. He spots Morgan in the car lot just as he's swinging his battered Honda around and searching for a parking slot. He shoves the brakes on and grabs his hold-all from the front seat, slipping out of the car and waving Morgan over.    
  
"Hey, what’s going on, you heard anything?" Rick calls as his partner makes his way across the lot towards him.    
  
Morgan smiles, closes the gap between them both and pulls Rick in for an embrace. "Apparently there was an incident across town, some guy pulled a gun on Rosita and they both had a bit of a scare," he says as he slaps Rick on the back a few times before pulling back to examine his face. "You okay? How's your guy?"   
  
Rick's eyes search around for anything to look at other than Morgan's intuitive gaze. It's what he loves and loathes in equal parts about Morgan. He can read Rick like an open book. One with large text and very descriptive pictures drawn in simplistic crayon. Sometimes it was a godsend, Morgan always seemed to know when Rick had something on his mind and made himself available to talk. On the other hand, he felt as though he barely had any privacy. Even if Morgan never pushed, just knowing his partner could sense his turmoil made him feel raw, exposed.    
  
"Yeah, he's.....doing ok, Morgan, should wake up soon." Rick sighs heavily. Even though he says it, he's still working hard to convince himself that the words are true but knowing deep down that he won't really believe them until Daryl actually does wake up. Until he can see the colour of Daryl's eyes for himself. Despite what the doctors say, Rick fears that the longer Daryl takes to wake, the less chance there is of it happening at all, or even that he'll be ok if he does.     
  
"Ok buddy," Morgan says as he relaxes his grip on Rick's arms. Rick knows his partner doesn't believe his reassurances that he’s ok, they know each other far too well to be fooled by words alone, the worry lines on his face and the nervous clenching of his jaw no doubt tells Morgan everything he needs to know. "He's in good hands, you know that.” Morgan insists, “Now, you good to go?"    
  
Rick nods once, because that's all he can do. Taking a deep breath, he shoulders his hold-all and heads up the station steps. He waves a quick morning to the Chief through the glass windows to his office where he's sitting at his desk, phone pressed tight to his ear and continues on to find Tracey and get his sector details for the shift.    
  


*

  
"Baker 9 we've had a call for a 6104 respond?"   
  
Their first call comes through an hour after their shift begins. They'd taken a quick detour to Morgan's favourite bakery for coffee and a bit of breakfast and Rick had just been about to take a bite of his first morsel of food that morning when he hears dispatch crackling through over the radio. He groans, looking longingly at his blueberry and honey muffin before shoving it regretfully back into the paper bag and wiping his hands on the napkin that came with it.   
  
"Baker 9 responding, 6104 confirmed, what location?" Rick calls back into the radio.    
  
"Copy baker 9, address is 453 Burgundy Terrace SE. Suspect is a 53-year-old male reported to be unarmed, copy?"   
  
"10-4 dispatch, hold us en route, eta 10 minutes." Rick grimaces at Morgan as he responds, this isn't the first time they've been called to this particular address and they both know what they'll find when they get there.    
  
"Holding you en route Baker 9, be careful boys."   
  
Beside him, Morgan chuckles at dispatch's last transmission and Rick looks over as he brings the cruiser to life. "What's so funny?" he asks, pulling away and flicking the switch for the red and blues, leaving the siren for now. Morgan just shrugs beside him, stupid grin plastered across his face and mutters something into the window as they tear out. Rick catches the word 'oblivious' and he just knows Morgan is talking about Sherry, the dispatch operator who, Morgan insists has a crush on Rick.    
  
"Stop." Rick complains, concentrating on the road ahead. He's not interested in dating, especially not Sherry. She's all tight skirts, big hair and oozing in southern hospitality and charm. Nice enough, but definitely not his type.    
  
As they speed through the busy streets Rick is filled with a sense of belonging. This is what he loves about his job, the rush you get driving into the unknown. That heady feeling that hones the senses and makes you feel stripped down to the barest essentials, adrenaline and instinct. It clears the mind of anything trivial, everything that isn't directly relevant to the task ahead. Rick revels in the serenity of it. All his worries centred around a simple hospital bed filled with a comatose body or his endless list of chores and groceries wiped from his overworked mind as he races through the streets of Atlanta towards their domestic disturbance call. Ready to do what they're trained to do, protect and serve, and Rick is made for this job.   
  
Rick let's Morgan take point on the call in the end, he isn't sure that he'll be able to keep a tight hold on his emotions, not after Carol and Sophia, not after seeing the obvious signs of abuse written across Daryl's skin. Luckily the guy comes quietly, they don't even need to draw their weapons before he surrenders himself and allows Morgan to cuff him and throw him in the back of the cruiser.   
  
It's while they are on their way back to the station to drop the guy off in a holding cell that Morgan brings up the subject of Daryl.    
  
"So, this guy, Dixon? You knew him as a kid, right?" he asks and Rick nods. "How long’s it been since you saw him last?" Morgan asks gently. Rick frowns, the creases between his eyebrows deepening and he resumes the anxious clenching of his jaw at the mention of Daryl. So much for forgetting about his old friend for a little while.    
  
"Graduation, I think." Rick says before finally taking a bite out of his muffin and groaning at just how hungry he actually is. "I spent the summer going on road trips with Shane and then went off to college and never saw Daryl again. Never found out where he lived, I mean, you know we sorta knew where abouts in town he lived, but we weren’t the kinda friends that went over and did homework together after school you know? Never saw him about town whenever I went back home for the holidays, now that I think on it," He muses thoughtfully between mouthfuls.   
  
Morgan only nods in response and throws a loaded look in Rick's direction, one that he doesn't even begin to try to decipher.   
  
After their shift is over, Rick decides to swing by the supermarket and grab some long overdue groceries. His fruit bowl is starting to resemble some sort of pitiful compost heap and his refrigerator now holds only beer and one lonely stick of butter that he’s pretty sure has been there for the last few months. He desperately needs to stop living on microwave meals and get back to cooking for himself. It's something he used to take great pleasure in when he had someone other than himself to feed. There just wasn't ever much point in slaving away in the kitchen when you're only making a meal for one. It was depressing.    
  
Rick spends longer than usual walking through the aisles almost as though something has reawakened inside him, like his life had been shrouded in a thick fog that's now lifted. He doesn't think of it exactly like that, of course. Instead, as he walks around the store handling fresh produce, bringing herbs to his nose to breathe in the rich aromas and contemplating the kinds of meals he wants to make himself, he simply realises just how long it's been since he enjoyed something as basic as grocery shopping, meal planning and well, eating. He's made his way through the whole store, filling his cart with a plethora of fruits, vegetables and various meats and is standing in line at the checkout with his groceries spread meticulously in order across the belt when his phone rings again, loud and shrill and he jumps at the sound.   
  
"Carol?" Rick answers quickly after checking the caller ID. He feels a sudden jolt of anxiety in his stomach, like a kingfisher swooping fast and sharp into a calm unsuspecting pond for it's prey.     
  
"He's awake," Carol breathes into the phone and he can hear the grin on her face as she speaks. It's infectious and the smile that breaks across his own mouth at the sound of her words is wide and pure.   
  
"I'll be there as soon as I can," Rick says, hitting the end call button without waiting to hear more and he hastily shoves the phone roughly into his pocket. He stands rooted to the spot, torn for a moment as he seriously considers abandoning the groceries and hightailing it over to the hospital but he's next in the line and everything's on the belt already, so he waits. He can't help the nervous tapping of his foot and the irritated huff that escapes his mouth and earns him a scowl from the woman in front as she starts rambling on about her coupons to the store clerk. He wonders how much trouble he would get in if he told her to get a fucking move on. He doesn't. He keeps his mouth firmly shut in a tight line, his jaw working as he grinds his teeth and glares daggers at the back of her head instead, willing her to hurry the fuck up.    
  
Rick breaks all the speed restrictions as he flies back to his apartment and throws the groceries into the kitchen, not even bothering to unpack. He shoves the frozen bits into the freezer quickly leaving the rest in their bags strewn across the kitchen floor, then dashes to his room. He checks himself in the mirror quickly and makes a valiant attempt to flatten his still unruly curls, huffing when they insist on sticking up at weird angles. He curses them loudly and makes a promise to himself to get a damn haircut. He considers for a moment whether to just head over in his uniform in order to get there faster but immediately decides against it when the memory of Daryl's older brother Merle hurling abuse at police officers back home comes to mind. It reminds him that Daryl might not take too well to him turning up in his blues if he's turned out anything like the older Dixon men Rick had heard rumours about during school. He really hopes that's not the case.    
  
Rick picks out his favourite blue button down and his best fitting pants and throws them on, rolls his sleeves up past his elbows and secures his pants with a slightly worn but well loved belt. He almost makes it to the front door before another wave of anxiety reeks havoc on his insides. He spins on his heels and rushes into the bathroom to vigorously brush his teeth, spray some cologne and check for any stray nose hairs that might have crept up on him over the last few days as he waits for his nerves to settle into something less like an all consuming maelstrom and more like a gently swirling eddy. Satisfied, he heads back to the hospital.    
  
He practically runs back up to the ICU, taking the stairs two at a time instead of the elevator to save time. He's a complete mess of nerves, anticipation and worry, his insides rolling as he fights hard against the urge to jog. He doesn't even know which emotion he feels strongest as he tears through the hallways, dodging beds and wheelchairs and kids carrying get well soon balloons.    
  
There's no sign of Noah this time, in fact, there's no one manning the doors at all so he presses the buzzer, waiting for someone to grant him access as he strokes his palms down his shirt, pushing out the creases and trying to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the wired glass windows of the ICU doors. No one acknowledges his request to enter and his foot is once again tapping an obnoxious rhythm into the floor, his fingers twisting around each other as he waits and waits.    
  
"C'mon!" he almost yells into the crack between the doors hitting the buzzer again with more excessive force than is strictly necessary.    
  
A very harassed looking blonde appears at the door and gives him a filthy look as she asks him who he's there to see. When he tells her, she informs him that “Mr. Dixon is no longer in ICU, Sir.” Rick bites his tongue at the sarcastic emphasis on the word ‘Sir’ but he’s pretty sure his face says it all because the woman looks mildly chastised and quickly directs him to a recovery ward a few corridors away. He thanks her tersely and takes off at a much faster walk than before.    
  
As luck would have it, just as he's rounding a corner he spots none other than Carol walking with a stack of files in her arms and he calls out to her, smiling wide as she turns at his voice.    
  
"Rick!" She hugs him as tight as she can with her hands full and shrugs him off when he offers to carry the papers for her. "Come on, I'll show you where they've put him," she says linking arms with him and leading him through the maze that is Atlanta general.    
  
"Is he ok? Have you seen him?" Rick asks hurriedly, he doesn't know what he'll do if Daryl isn't ok, if he's woken up with any of those deficits the doctors had outlined to him.    
  
"I might have popped my head in earlier," she grins wickedly. "He's a nice looking man under all those bruises, Rick," she says with a wink and a playful shove which he just laughs off.    
  
"He's ok, Rick," Carol assures him with a gentle hand that runs up and down his arm   
"He's groggy, a little confused and he's obviously in a bit of pain, but he's ok."    
  
"How long has he been awake for?" Rick asks as they make their way to the ward.    
  
"Oh, I’m not sure, a few hours I think? They paged me but I couldn't get away to call you," she says with an apologetic smile. “We’ve been rushed off our feet so I couldn’t sit with him too long. I’ve not had a chance to swing back in yet so I’ve no idea whether he’s still awake or not.”

“So he might be asleep again?” Rick pauses abruptly and nearly knocks the stack of patient files out of Carols arms, looking at her with anxiety written all over his face.    
  
Carol throws him a reassuring smile and tugs him gently into motion again. “He might be, it’s completely normal, he’s just had brain surgery after all, it’s gonna take him a while to get back to normal. I imagine he’s going to be in and out of it for a while yet due to all the medication we’ve got him on, never mind the trauma his body has just been through.” Rick nods, trusting Carol. She is, after all the best nurse he knows. “Did you see it in the paper?” She does a great job redirecting his mind from Daryl’s injuries on the way to the ward, chatting happily and letting Rick off with the odd smile and nod of agreement as they walk. "I'll let you go in alone," She offers as they approach the nurses station pointing out which room Daryl is now set up in. "I should get back anyway." She kisses him on the cheek sweetly and heads back to finish off the rest of her shift with a wave.    
  
Rick stands a few feet away from Daryl's room and does his best to keep his breathing steady before reaching for the handle and drawing the wooden door open.    
  
"Daryl Dixon," Rick says as he enters, grinning so hard his face feels like it's cracking. He knows he probably looks like a complete idiot standing there smiling like a fool but it's so fucking good to see Daryl awake, sitting propped up in bed with his eyes open. Motorcycle magazine laying open across his lap. Blue is the first thing that comes to mind. Daryl's eyes are so blue and Rick can't believe how he had ever managed to forget the shade of them, like the evening sky or the shallow water of the ocean. They're trained right on him, narrow and wary and Rick thinks for a moment that Daryl doesn't remember him.    
  
"Well fuck me, really is ya. Nurse, ugh..." Daryl screws his face up for a moment, as if thinking too hard hurts right now. "Carol...said...said some cop called Rick Grimes been sittin' 'side my bed every day since I got here, chattin' up a storm," Daryl finally says and Rick exhales loudly, moving further into the room and heading for his chair beside the bed. Daryl watches him as he moves and Rick feels warmth spread through his body. It's obviously just because Daryl's awake, finally and he's ok.    
  
"Carol was right. I was one of the officers at the scene, when I found out it was you…." Rick trails off not really knowing how to finish that sentence.    
  
"Figures ya'd be a cop." Daryl's voice is rough, like sandpaper over grit, it feels like whiskey and cigarettes and Rick loves it. He'd always loved Daryl's low southern drawl even as kids and it seems like puberty did Daryl a multitude of favours. It's clear however that Daryl's still fuzzed out on pain meds. There's a rosy hint to his cheeks under the bruising and when he speaks his words are slightly slurred.    
  
"How are you feeling?" Rick asks, seeing Daryl wince as he tries to shift himself up in the bed a little more.    
  
"Be better if I could get outta this damn bed ‘n take a piss," Daryl grumbles with a scowl on his face and that is as close to the face Rick remembers as he's gonna get. Those narrow eyes and the furrowed brow just screams Daryl Dixon at him. "Nurses ain't told me how come I ended up in here yet," Daryl adds quietly.    
  
"You don't remember?" Rick asks, surprised no one had thought to tell Daryl exactly how he'd ended up having brain surgery. Daryl shakes his head with a grunt, locking slightly hazy eyes with Rick's own once more.    
  
"There was an accident," Rick says. "A woman rolled her car and you stopped and pulled them both out. Do you remember that?" Rick leans in closer, resting his hands on his knees and picking at a bit of dirt on his pants.    
  
"Nah," Daryl starts then closes his eyes as if he's trying to force his mind to unblock and remember how he got here. "Last thing I remember's closin' up the shop." He screws his eyes up and his head rolls woozily like he's had too much to drink and the rooms spinning.    
  
"Well, you're kind of a hero. You pulled them out and I'm guessing you were headed back to your bike when a jeep slammed into you, sent you flying," Rick explains. Then quieter he says. "You were pretty messed up." He feels his cheeks heat up slightly as he says it and looks away from Daryl's face.    
  
"M'bike? S'it busted up real bad?" Daryl fiddles with the bandage across his forehead as he speaks, fingers digging underneath slightly and lightly scratching at the skin there, carefully avoiding the now scabbed over scrapes that litter his skin.    
  
Rick laughs at Daryl's lack of concern for himself in lieu of his bike, another very Daryl thing. "Your bike is fine, it's been impounded, you can claim it back when you're up and about again."    
  
Daryl sighs heavily and closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the pillow and doesn't move for a few moments. Rick wonders briefly whether his meds have allowed him to fall asleep and leans back in his own chair ready to wait until he wakes again.    
  
"The girl," Daryl grunts out quietly, eyes still closed and head still prone on the pillow.    
  
"What?" Rick asks quietly letting his eyes rake over Daryl's face as he shifts forward in the chair bringing him closer.   
  
"Said there was a girl, said I...." Daryl's words were thick and laden with sleep and the end of the sentence drifts off without being finished as Daryl slowly slips back into a medicated slumber once more.    
  
Rick takes a chance and takes hold of Daryl's hand like he had yesterday, touching it lightly and smiling when he feels Daryl's fingers curl around his instinctively before slowly becoming slack as he drifts off.   
  
"She's ok, Daryl," Rick says even though he's sure Daryl won't hear him. "You saved her. You saved them both."   
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Rick get to know each other a little bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll never know exactly how many Z's Tweedo had to pull out of this story for me! I mean, what is it with you Americans and all your Z's???

“Pass me the oven mitts, I think these are just about ready to come out,” Rick calls out over his shoulder, reaching a hand back to grab the navy and white polka dot mitts as they’re placed over his shoulder and sliding them onto his hands before reaching down, pulling the oven door open and leaning back to avoid the sudden burst of cinnamon sweet air that rushes out and threatens to scald his face. He laughs when he hears the soft chuckle behind him at the wild movements his arms make when he wafts the boiling air that escapes. He lets the air cool slightly before leaning in and pulling out the tray of holiday cookies that look and smell absolutely fantastic. He feels a certain sense of pride for creating such a masterpiece and as he stands, turning slightly towards the work surface where he just knows his helper has a cooling rack already laid out for him the image fades to black and the comforting sounds of the kitchen morph into the steady hum and sporadic beeping of machinery. His eyelids flicker and instead of the soft sunlight streaming through the kitchen window it’s the florescent strips that pour artificial light into his tired eyes. Awareness slams into him and he sits upright in the hard plastic hospital chair to find blue eyes watching him from the bed beside him.  
  
“Ugh.” Rick groans as he rubs the sleep from his eyes, he hadn’t even realised he’d dozed off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to drop off,” he says, sheepishly throwing Daryl a grin.  
  
“Musta needed it, ya been out fer over an hour,” Daryl grunts. It’s hard to tell but Rick is pretty sure he can hear a hint of amusement in Daryl’s voice and a slight lift to the left side of his mouth, it’s miniscule but Rick’s pretty sure Daryl is laughing at him. “Anyone ever mention ya snore like a 300lb trucker?” he snorts. yep, definitely laughing at him. Rick smiles at Daryl’s good natured teasing; it’s been awhile since he’s had someone to rib on him like this.  
  
“No idea what you’re talking about, I don’t snore. You must’ve been hearing things. Think those meds are playing tricks on you,” he quips back, earning himself another quiet snort of laughter from the bed. Rick stands and stretches out all the kinks that have suddenly turned into knots from sitting on such an uncomfortable chair. He really is getting too old to be curled up and sleeping on an arm chair. He winces when he feels the cartilage in his neck cracking as he moves it from side to side. “How are you feeling now anyway? Those meds seemed to work pretty quickly earlier,” he asks as he takes his seat again, perching on the edge this time to give his ass a chance to wake up. Daryl shifts himself slightly in the bed and reaches for the controls, lifting himself into a more upright position and Rick can see the pain flit across his face as it puts strain on his battered body.  
  
“Yeah, m’better. They gave me the good drugs, not the ones that make ya feel like ya trippin on shrooms anyway.” Daryl definitely does seem a little less groggy than he had been earlier, whether it’s due to a different cocktail of pain meds or just that the sleep has helped to take the edge off, Rick isn’t sure. Daryl’s eyes look a little less glazed over and he isn’t quite slurring his words anymore at least. Rick nods and grunts his approval. “Thanks fer the mag by the way,” Daryl says nodding down to the motorcycle magazine that’s still open across his lap.  
  
“Figured you’d appreciate something to read while you’re stuck in here, can’t imagine the TV choice is anything special anyway.” Rick says, feeling happy that he’d thought to pick it up yesterday and making a mental note to bring more next time.

  
“How come ya still here Rick? Ain’t saying I mind listenin to ya snoring away next ta me but ain’t ya got a wife er somethin waitin fer ya at home?” Rick feels himself starting to flush slightly as Daryl talks and doesn’t miss the way Daryl’s eyes flick down to where his wedding band used to sit. He’s thankful in that moment that he took it off when he did and that there’s no lingering trace of his broken marriage vows. Daryl must see the pain that flicks across his features as he fleetingly thinks about Lori because Daryl looks down suddenly, starts plucking at the crisp white bed sheet across his chest and says “Sorry, didn't mean ta pry.”  
  
“No, it’s fine Daryl and no, there’s no one waiting for me at home. Well not unless you count the reruns of Walker Texas Ranger anyway.” Rick laughs but it’s a half-hearted one at best. He finds himself unable to look Daryl in the eye while he says it and instead focuses on a small divot in the linoleum by his feet.  
  
“Figured ya’d be married with a couple a kids under ya belt by now,” Daryl says quietly.  
  
“I was married, you remember Lori Wright?” Rick asks, no longer focused on the floor but on Daryl’s face once more as the man nods.  
  
“Yeah I remember, pretty thing, brunette? Used ta hang round with you n Walsh right?” Daryl replies.  
  
“That’s the one, yeah. We dated in college for a bit, married her not long after we graduated. Never had any kids though, never got around to it,” Rick says with a hint of sadness in his voice that isn’t lost on Daryl. “We, ugh…divorced about two years ago now.”  
  
“Shit m’sorry Rick, ya ain’t gotta explain nothin,” Daryl apologises and Rick can see the genuine concern on his face. He suddenly feels uncomfortable, he isn’t about to go into the finer points of his and Lori’s divorce, even though he’s technically already told Daryl all this, the guy was in a coma and it's very different to telling someone who’s awake, especially having only just reunited after so many years.  
  
“No harm, no foul.” He shrugs, ready to leave that conversation for another day, if they get the chance. “What about you Daryl? Is there someone at home I can call for you? We checked when they brought you in but your emergency details still had Merle down as your next of kin,” Rick pauses briefly then adds in a quiet voice, “I’m sorry, about Merle and your father.”  
  
“Ain’t gotta be sorry, Rick. Pa was a mean son of a bitch n he’s better off rottin in the ground.” Daryl’s eyes narrow and his mouth tightens. Rick doesn’t miss the venom laced tone of Daryl’s voice either. “n merle?” Daryl continues, “Well he always was heading fer n early grave. If it wern’t the drugs that took im’ it’d be somethin else.” Daryl’s voice is softer now, still angry but tinged with a slight hint of what Rick can only assume is affection for the brother he’s lost but Rick still feels like an idiot for even bringing it up. “Aint no one waitin on me ta get home either,” He adds in a quiet voice that makes Rick feel small. Just then there’s a knock at the door and a portly woman with wild bushy brown hair barely restrained in a hair tie nudges her way into the room with a clear plastic bag cradled in her arms. “Mr. Dixon! I’m glad to see you awake,” she says in a matronly tone. “I’m Teresa, the shift nurse this evening, how are you feeling?” she asks as she makes her way around to stand beside Daryl on the opposite side of the room to where Rick sits. She peers at Daryl’s face, quietly assessing with a stern look.  
  
“M’good.” Daryl grunts and Rick tries hard to repress a snort of laughter at his clipped tone.  
  
“Good, any headaches? Nausea? Dizziness?” she probes, placing the bundle in her arms on the table behind her before turning back and pressing a hand lightly on Daryl’s forehead. Rick doesn’t miss the way that Daryl almost flinches as her hand approaches his face and he wonders if the scars on Daryl's back he caught a glimpse of have anything to do with the reaction.  
  
“Nah m’good.” Daryl grunts again and Rick hears Teresa sigh slightly, Daryl is obviously not Teresa’s idea of a good patient.  
  
“Any pain at all? And be honest now, there’s no medals for heroics in hospital you know,” she chastises him but removes her hand, seemingly satisfied with what she finds. Nonetheless she pulls out an ear thermometer and clips the cap on. Daryl flinches again as she descends on him without warning and Rick winces when she pushes the device into his ear despite his obvious unease. When that’s over she pulls out a penlight and leans over the bed to examine Daryl’s eyes, flashing the light across each one, checking his pupillary reaction. Rick can see that Daryl is incredibly uncomfortable having someone so up in his personal space, his good shoulder is curled in on himself as if to shield him from the nurse, his eyes are narrow and tight and the hand not restrained in a sling is clenched into a tight fist. Rick can’t imagine how she hasn’t seen this for herself and feels a twinge of irritation with her. Daryl probably wouldn’t be quite so uncomfortable if she had actually told him what she was intending to do, rather than just jumping in without permission.  
  
Daryl glances at Rick briefly before he answers and when he does his voice is low and quiet, almost as if admitting to pain would be seen as a weakness. “Uh, just a little. Ain’t nothing ta write home ‘bout, had worse.”  
  
Teresa nods curtly. “I’m sure you have, Mr. Dixon. Can you tell me where you’re experiencing discomfort?”  
  
“Mhm, shoulder n’ ma leg, a little.” Daryl nods towards the offending body parts as he speaks and Teresa nods as if she’d expected as much.  
  
“That’s to be expected. You’re due another dose of medication in….” she checks her fob watch and then his chart briefly before continuing. “Two hours, if the pain gets too much before then just use the call button and we’ll come and assess something to give you to tide you over.” She moves back to pick up the plastic wrapped bundle once more and brings it over to place on top of the magazine on Daryl’s lap. “I took the liberty of signing these out for you. They’re your possessions that were removed on your admittance. You should find everything in order, unfortunately we did have to cut your pants and shirt off when they brought you in but they managed to keep the rest of your things intact.”

  
“Right, thanks.” Daryl says awkwardly as he fiddles with the plastic in his lap.  
  
“Good. Remember anything you need just hit the call button and someone will come as soon as they’re able.” She finally manages a hint of a smile. “Get some rest,” she adds before excusing herself from the room once more.  
  
Daryl starts pulling at the plastic wrapper, trying to open it one handed but fails miserably. He’s just lifting it towards his face as if he’s about to tear it open with his teeth when Rick takes pity on him and pulls it out of his hand, carefully opening the package and returning it to Daryl’s lap.  
  
“Thanks,” Daryl huffs. Rick gets the impression that Daryl’s not a fan of being taken care of and he stifles another grin. He watches as Daryl pulls out a ruined pair of pants and shirt that are covered in dark, dried on blood and have quite obviously been cut from his body. Rick feels his stomach lurch at the sight of the mangled clothes. A black leather vest follows and Rick catches sight of something white embroidered across the back before Daryl bundles it up beside him. There’s a smaller parcel inside with a mobile phone, a watch, a packet of smokes and a small silver object that Rick assumes is a lighter. “Least ma phone survived, piece of shit prolly make it through a fuckin apocalypse.” Daryl laughs as he presses the power button and waits while the screen comes to life. “Gonna have ta call Dale n ask him ta swing by the shop fer me.”  
  
“Dale? Is that someone you work with?” Rick asks. Come to think of it, Daryl’s mentioned his ‘shop’ more than once now and Rick hasn’t even thought to ask what kind of place it is that he works at.  
  
“Nah, friend a mine, used ta work fer ‘im. Shop was his before he sold it ta me.” Daryl explains as he makes a pretty good attempt at fastening his watch back on.  
  
“Here, let me.” Rick says, nodding towards Daryl’s watch. He doesn’t miss the way Daryl hesitates before giving a slight twitch of his own head, eyes flicking down to his lap once more before holding out his wrist. Rick leans over the bed and takes the watch in his hand, fastening it quickly before sitting back down again. “What sort of shop do you have?”  
  
“’S’repair shop, cars, bikes, that sorta thing,” Daryl says with what Rick can only interpret as a proud look on his face. “Dale took me on not long after I moved, trained me up good n passed it on when he retired. Poor guy’s gonna have kittens when I tell ‘im what happened,” he huffs. Yep, definitely not a fan of being looked after. “What about ya? how long ya been a cop fer”  
  
“God, years now. Went into the academy right out of college, moved to Atlanta not long after that really. Can’t imagine doing anything else if I’m honest.” Rick smiles because he really does love his job. He’s proud of the work he does and it still, after all these years, makes his heart sing.  
  
“Surprised ya didn’t ever get ya hands on Merle, stupid ass was always in n out,” Daryl snorts. “Got picked up one night fer startin a fight in a bar, said the bar staff was servin watered down beer. The prick.” Rick can’t help but laugh along with Daryl’s quiet chuckle. The sound is quiet and reserved but Rick likes the way his eyes sparkle with amusement and the way his lips twitch as if he’s working hard to suppress a smile.  
  
“Doesn’t surprise me, I remember Merle, always mouthing off about something. Used to scare the shit out of me if I’m honest.” Rick laughs again, remembering just how terrified he used to be of the older Dixon. He wasn’t the only person he knew that Merle put the fear of god into either.  
  
“Yeah, sounds like ol’ Merle.” Daryl’s eyes soften just a fraction. It’s clear to Rick that despite Merle being Merle, Daryl really did love his older brother, warts and all. It’s sad that he was left with no one now.    
  
Another knock at the door interrupts Rick before he can even respond and Teresa lets herself back in with another tight scowl. “Sorry to interrupt again, Mr. Dixon, the orderlies will be bringing around dinner soon. You weren’t awake to fill out the menu card so I’m not entirely sure what you’ll be having but I do need to come and get you cleaned up before they arrive. I’ll go and get everything set up and I’ll be back in five minutes to get you sorted.”  
  
Daryl visibly cringes at her as she heads back out of the door before turning to Rick. “Fuck I gotta have a sponge bath on top of all this shit? Fuck,” he curses and Rick does feel a little sorry for him, sponge baths can’t be pleasant but hospital rules and all that.  
  
“Here.” Rick stands and walks over to the table where there’s a stack of paper towels and hunts around for a pen, hastily scribbling down his number and handing it to Daryl.  
“My number,” Rick explains when Daryl lifts an eyebrow in question. “If you need anything at all you use that ok?” Daryl seems to think about that for a minute before nodding slightly. “I’m back at work tomorrow but I get off at four, if you think of anything you need, drop me a line and I’ll bring it over for you.” He doesn’t sit back down, instead he stands awkwardly shifting minutely from foot to foot unsure what to say next. Teresa chooses that moment to let herself back in without knocking, a bowl of soapy water and a bundle of towels in her arms. Rick smirks at the faint look of horror on Daryl’s face. “And I think that’s my cue to leave,” he chuckles and starts towards the door, turning back with the handle already in his hand. “I mean it Daryl, let me know if you need anything, anything at all.” He shoots a quick glance at the nurse as she bustles around getting the sponge bath set up and notices Daryl’s eyes tracking her every move, he looks wary and nervous with his bottom lip tucked neatly underneath his teeth, his eyes tight and narrow and his brow creased into a frown. Rick hesitates for just a moment until Teresa shoots a rather fierce look in his direction that he takes to be a dismissal.    
  
“Hey Rick?” Daryl calls just as he’s about to leave. “Thanks,” he says with a soft smile on his lips. Rick doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need too, just offers Daryl a smile of his own and heads out into the hallway once more, shutting the door firmly behind him.  
  
As Rick drives home he feels lighter than he has in a long time. All the tension he didn’t even realise he had been carrying over the last few days has completely dissipated over the course of his afternoon spent with Daryl. He turns his car radio up loud and winds both the windows down all the way as he makes his way back to his apartment, singing along with the old country music that blasts out from the speakers. He can’t hold a tune, something Lori had always bugged him about but right now he couldn’t care less. He can feel the relief and happiness at Daryl being okay flooding through his body, making him weightless and carefree. When he finally lets himself back into his apartment he’s greeted by the sight of his groceries scattered across the kitchen floor and groans, he’d completely forgotten all about leaving them out in his haste to get back to the hospital and he quickly gets to work packing everything away, filling the shelves and the fridge and throwing out the rotten fruit from the bowl. He’s just finished putting the last of the beer in the fridge when his phone chirps at him from the side.  
  
_If I have ta have another fuckin bed bath again imma start wishin I was back in a coma._ _  
___  
Rick grins at the screen, it’s obvious it’s Daryl texting him and he’s suddenly ecstatic that the guy had actually used his number. Laughing so loud it sounds strange in the empty apartment, he quickly types a reply.  
  


_ I take it you didn't enjoy being pampered?  _

 

_ Thought she was gonna take ma skin off!  _

 

Rick can actually hear Daryl's clipped, rough voice grumbling in annoyance in his head and his grin gets even wider as his fingers fly across the buttons on his phone as he types back.

 

_She was a bit fierce wasn't she? Maybe we just need to get you a prettier nurse next time._ _  
__  
_Or maybe one who’s a little more sensitive to Daryl’s wary nature, Rick thinks to himself. He grabs himself a beer and slumps down on the sofa, turning the TV on and yep, Walker Texas Ranger, again. He sighs and continues flicking through the channels but there’s nothing else on and he’s in far too good of a mood to switch it over to the news. His phone chirps again, closely followed by a second one and his face cracks into a massive grin without warning. He relaxes back onto the sofa, kicking off his shoes and socks and wiggling his toes slightly against the soft fibres of the cushions, getting comfy before reading.  
_  
__Ain’t no nurse pretty enough fer that._ _  
_ _Only thing worse than that fuckin bath is the food. Ain’t even sure what it’s supposed to be._ _  
__  
_Rick laughs again and he’s fairly sure that he’s laughed more today than he has in weeks. He likes this, texting with Daryl. It makes a change from the endless emptiness his evenings usually offer him.  
_  
___I’m sure I saw a pretty blonde nurse I could probably get to sponge you down next time if you’re good might even be able to bribe her into bringing you decent food.

_  
__Nah, Prefer brunettes. Ya at home?_ _  
___  
Rick settles further into the sofa cushions with his phone cradled in his hands and smiles at that. So Daryl preferred brunettes?

_  
__Me too. Yeah lying on my couch with a beer. guess what’s on TV?_ _  
__  
__Sure rub it in. m’stuck here with water and some brown shit’s supposed ta be some sorta meat. m’guessin Walker Texas Ranger right?_ _  
__  
_Rick grimaces at the mental picture his mind conjures up, knowing exactly what hospital food is like and makes a promise to himself to take Daryl a pizza or something the next time he visits.  
_  
__You’re watching it too aren’t you?_ _  
__  
___Ya caught me Chuck Norris is a badass

_   
_ Rick feels a sudden rush of warmth at the idea that they were both lying back and watching the same program. It’s silly but there’s something comforting and natural about it. Rick suddenly realizes the face on his TV looks oddly familiar and he wonders if Daryl will remember too.

_You know, Chuck kind of reminds me of our old English teacher. What was his name?_ _  
__  
__Fuck ya right, Mr. Stanley weren’t it? He was an asshole._ _  
__  
_Rick remembers Daryl clear as day from their English class, he always sat in the back row with his hood pulled up, hiding behind his bangs with a pen or pencil dangling from his lips. Mr. Stanley was a definitely an asshole who started calling Daryl up for stupid little things in their first year and never really stopped. Rick thought he was just another small minded prick who hated Daryl just because he was a Dixon.  
_  
__Yeah he was an asshole. Remember you always used to wear that damned hoodie? Pretty sure you used to wear it just to piss him off._ _  
__  
__Shit yeah, forgot bout that. Used to wear it on purpose cos that fucker hated it._ _  
__  
__I knew it! “Mr. Dixon we are studying English Literature today, not how to successfully pull of a B &E.”_ _  
__  
_As Rick types the words he can almost hear his old teacher’s voice in his head and see the hint of a smirk Daryl would throw his way as he slowly pushed his hood back.  
_  
__Fuck, think my balls just shrivelled up_ _  
__  
__Shit Daryl, I just snorted beer out of my nose!_ __  
  


Rick considers getting up and changing into his pajamas now that his shirt has a rather embarrassing amount of beer spilt on it but he's just too comfy. He just whips his shirt off, tosses it in the rough direction of the kitchen and lies back down again. He spends the rest of the evening laughing and grinning like he’s right back in high school as he continues to message back and forth with Daryl. They tease each other gently and Rick thinks Daryl’s dry, witty sense of humour is one he will never get tired of. He falls asleep on the sofa that night, a grin still plastered to his face, empty bottle of beer by his side and his phone lying on his bare chest.    
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day in the hospital for Daryl and Rick tries his best to make that a little easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all the wonderful comments you're leaving me! I haven't had a chance to reply to the latest ones but it's clear you all want Rick to help Daryl out with that bed bath! Isn't it funny how I thought exactly the same whilst writing it (and how Rick feels the same way too!) 
> 
> This is the last update before I fly out to Norway for a week so I cannot guarantee that the next chapter will be updated on schedule. I'll try my best in any case. 
> 
> Just remember guys that this is a slow burn fic so our boys are going to take a little while to get to anything REALLY interesting!
> 
> Thanks as always to Tweedo for beta'ing this for me, for the girls over at the RWG for talking me through those multiple episodes of writers block and especially Marooncamaro for nagging me about getting this finished!

Rick’s alarm wakes him just after 6am the following morning. For the briefest of moments he’s puzzled at finding himself curled up on the sofa, bare chested and smattered head to toe in odd little aches and twinges. He chuckles a little at the position he’s lying in, cuddled around one of his soft cushions held tight to his chest like a small child drawing comfort from a beloved teddy and a blanket pulled from the back of the sofa and dragged haphazardly across his shoulders. He pushes himself upright, wincing at the creaking and groaning of his protesting joints. Too long spent cramped up in the unforgiving, hospital chairs followed by a night sleeping on his comfortable, yet not quite big enough sofa. As he stands, his phone falls to the ground with a heavy, muted thump. It scarcely misses the almost empty bottle of beer still perched on the floor at his feet and reminds him, with a sleepy smile of the easy back and forth texting between friends that he’s sorely missed from his life since Shane left. The TV still flickers, some old black and white western playing across the screen with the volume muted at some point during the night and makes him wonder absentmindedly what kind of movies Daryl likes to watch. With his friend on his mind, he reaches down for his phone and fires off a quick text, not really expecting Daryl to be awake this early.

 

_ Hope your bed was comfier than mine. I never made it off the sofa last night. _

 

_ Bed was fine, damn nurses wakin me up every two hours weren’t the best. _

 

Rick finds himself pleasantly surprised at how fast Daryl responds but then again it sounds like the guy’s had a rough night, unsurprising really. Hospital wards are renowned for bad food and even worse sleep cycles.

 

_ What the hell were they doing every two hours? _

 

_ Fuck knows, students apparently. Bouncing round like over eager pups. _

 

Despite feeling creaky and somewhat old, he really had had a wonderful night's rest and he twinges in sympathy that the one person who could do with a decent night’s sleep was robbed of one. Of course, the aching muscles and laments of his body would be easily cured by a long, hot soak in the shower. Another thing that makes him feel bad for Daryl, having to put up with getting a sponge bath and possibly by one of those ‘over eager pups’.

 

_ They probably just wanted a chance to meet a local hero. Did you know you were in the paper? Just heading in the shower. _

 

_ Fuck, really? Ain’t they got nothing better ta write about? Shower sounds good. Don’t fancy another bed bath. _

 

Rick finds himself amazed at Daryl’s ability to once again brush off just how selflessly he’d acted that night. As if it were something that anyone with half a brain would do. Rick knows better, years on the force have allowed him to see all manner of things, including the fact that more often than not bystanders would rather get their phones out and take pictures than help someone in trouble. Especially if it meant they might accidentally get themselves hurt in the process.

 

_ Better than a guy rescuing two people and ending up in a coma for his troubles? Surprised they haven’t been lined up outside the ward waiting to get a photo yet. About the bed bath, hold them off until I get there; I have a plan for that. _

 

Rick grins as he types, knowing that he fully intends to try and spare some of Daryl’s dignity when he visits later on and hoping the nursing staff will go for it. After heading to the shower, Rick spends longer under the spray than he usually does, finally letting himself relax and enjoy the warm water soothing his stiff body, sloughing off the tension that’s been plaguing him over the last few days. Once he’s clean, the skin covering his fingers and toes are sufficiently wrinkled and his curls are, for once, straight and plastered to his skull as he steps out, wrapping a large green towel around his waist and stands in front of the mirror. The dark circles he’d noticed under his eyes are finally starting to reduce. He can see under the light dusting of hair that the skin on his chest and arms is flushed pink from the heat of the water and he notices that somewhere in the last few months he’d started losing weight. His muscles are far more apparent than they used to be with the subtle ridges of his abs more prominent and with a smile he realises that he’s managed to cultivate a nicely defined Apollo's belt. Police training at his level in the force isn’t a requirement, only in such that it allows him to pass his yearly physical but it’s something that he enjoys so he signs up for the sessions each time they roll them out and keeps up the routines around work when they’re on hiatus. That coupled with his lack of enthusiasm for gorging himself on food has clearly done him the world of good. Still, he never thought he’d have to wait until his mid-thirties to get a body like this.

 

Rick lines up his razor and shaving cream across the bathroom counter, rummaging in one of the cupboards for the moisturiser Carol had bought him for Christmas last year that he hasn’t yet gotten around to opening and gets to work removing the longer than strictly professional hair now covering his lower face. As soon as he’s done, with his curls firmly back in place and tamed, his face silky smooth, showing off his smile lines and cupids bow once more. He grabs a little travel bag from the cabinet and sticks in an unopened tube of toothpaste and his spare, still boxed up toothbrush and throws it into his work bag along with a spare set of clothes for himself, an old black t-shirt that looks like it belonged to Shane once many years ago which, he thinks might sort of fit Daryl and a pair of sweatpants that he’s pretty sure have enough stretch in them to fit over Daryl’s cast. A clean, dark brown towel makes its way in next followed by a freshly laundered face cloth. He does it all without even considering whether Daryl would feel offended at wearing someone else’s clothes, the only thought he has is that it must be horribly embarrassing to have to lay around in a hospital gown day and night.

 

Rick heads into the bedroom and dresses quickly in his blues, cleaned and pressed by Nicole down at the dry cleaners and fills a second bag with his two other sets, haphazardly cast across his bedroom floor left there in a hurry after his previous shifts. He’ll drop them off at some point today, knowing that Nicole will have them ready for him tomorrow. He just has enough time to grab himself a bowl of cereal, some generic brand muesli warmed in the microwave and almost manages not to snort milk out of his nose at Daryl’s newest message.

 

_ Did ya know cereal comes in grey? Pretty sure foods better in prison. _

 

_ Not so sure about that. I heard it’s pretty bad. _

 

Part of him is relieved to hear that Daryl doesn’t have first-hand experience of prison food, then he chastises himself for even entertaining that line of thought.

 

_ Not from what Merle used ta say, always runnin on bout’ best meat he’d ever had that he ain’t caught himself. Cept when I caught it n he got outta doin all the hard work o’course. _

 

_ You hunt? _

 

Rick fires the message off quickly as he rinses the dish and spoon under the faucet imagining Daryl surrounded by trees, burrowed down in the groundcover, rifle propped up against a branch with a deer in his sights. The image is a fascinating one and Rick is suddenly caught by the desire to traipse around the forest tracking animals trailing in Daryl’s wake. He’s hunted before, once or twice when he was a boy but never managed a kill. Shane’s old man had rounded them up one morning after they’d camped out in the Walsh’s back yard, announced that they were about to get a crash course in being a man and marched them out into the woods to teach them how to shoot. Rick had been a crack shot much to Shane’s dismay, he’d taken a little longer to refine his aim then again and Rick always had been the more level out of the two of them even when they were kids.

 

_ Yeah, always have. Can’t wait ta get this damn cast off so I can get back out there. _

_ You must be going stir crazy, any news on when they're going to let you home?  _

Rick manages to type the message out one handed as he slings his bags over a shoulder each, snatches up his keys and fumbles to lock the apartment before heading down to the car. Despite his early alarm he's pushing it now and if he doesn't get a move on there's a good chance he'll be late for work. He doesn't wait for a reply; instead he hastily shoves the phone into his uniform pocket, starts the car and heads out into the early morning traffic. He does however smirk a little when he feels the buzz of his phone against his thigh as he pulls away from the block. He just about resists the urge to pull it out and reply. It wouldn't look good for an officer to be caught texting while driving anyway. This time as he drives to the station, he switches the radio to a classic rock channel and taps out the beats against the steering wheel.

Morgan is waiting for him on the station steps when he finally arrives five minutes late and only then because he forgot about the roadwork a few blocks down from his place and had to take a detour. Morgan gets up as soon as Rick steps out of the car and gives him a teasing smile.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever known you to be late Rick,” he says as he starts walking over to the cruiser.

“Yeah I think it’s the first time in a few years that’s for sure, how’s Duane?” Rick asks popping the cruiser’s trunk and slinging his bag filled with laundry inside then heading for the driver’s seat.

“He’s good,” Morgan starts as he climbs into the passenger’s seat. “Managed to convince Jenny to buy him some new game for his console and we’ve hardly seen him this week.” He chuckles fondly as Rick starts the engine. “What about you, Rick? Has your Dixon woken up yet?” he asks as they pull away, heading downtown to patrol the streets and wait for their first call to come in.

Rick shifts in his seat slightly, tapping his index finger along the underside of the steering wheel and glances guiltily across at Morgan before answering. “Shit, I’m sorry Morgan I meant to text you and give you an update.” He grimaces sheepishly. He really should have let Morgan know. “Yeah, he’s awake. Looks good, too,” Rick blushes when he realises the implication in his choice of words. “I mean he’s still banged up but it looks like he’ll be fine.”

“That’s amazing news!” Morgan beams and reaches a hand out to grip onto Rick’s shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “So, tell me about him, does he remember you? Is he how you remember him?” Morgan turns in his seat to face Rick and crosses his arms over his chest and he listens as Rick spends the next hour telling Morgan all about Daryl. It’s not until they’ve pulled up outside Bluebells Bakery for the second time that week and Morgan is grinning at him like a fool.

 

“What?” Rick finally asks, an uncertain smile breaking out across his face at the look on Morgan’s, it’s maddening, that look but Rick guesses that his partner is laughing at his exuberance at having an old friend back in his life. Maybe he’s thinking that Daryl will replace the hole that Shane left. God knows he could really do with having someone. Morgan is a good friend but they aren’t close, not really. The same can be said for Carol, they’re friends, they message each other from time to time and meet up once every few months but neither of them are people that Rick considers to be close friends.

“Nothing, what do you want?” Morgan asks, nodding his head towards the bakery.

“Right, um…….see if they’ve got any cinnamon for me?” Rick says feeling a little uncomfortable suddenly having realised just how much he’d been talking during the ride over. It’s only when Morgan gets out of the car that he remembers he has a message from Daryl just waiting to be read.

_ Said it might be a while. Nurse said somethin bout the sling, damn woman talks too fast.  _

Rick’s not surprised really. There’s no way the hospital will send Daryl home with his arm in a sling and his leg in a cast. Especially not when there’s no one home to help him get around. Maybe when they take the sling off, he might be able to manage but until then he’ll have to stay put. Just as Rick is considering a reply they get their first call out. He beeps the horn sharply twice and beckons to Morgan through the shop window. With his hands full of a bag of muffins, Morgan hastily jumps back in the cruiser and almost instantly Rick has it started and is driving off to the outskirts of town, lights and sirens working their magic on the busy streets.

By the time 3pm comes around they’ve been called out to a small apartment block where there seemed to be some sort of disagreement over parking space which, according to one guy could only be sorted out through racist slurs and the heavy swing of a baseball bat. Thankfully no one was hurt and they managed to bring the guy in easily enough. The next call had them diverting traffic away from a car accident where unfortunately an elderly man had suffered a heart attack whilst driving and swerved into oncoming traffic. The old guy was pronounced dead on the scene and the EMTs took an injured teen driving his mom’s SUV down to Atlanta General. Their final call, however, had been a little trickier. They’d been sent out to a young woman’s flat downtown where her ex had managed to break in and was threatening to kill himself if she didn’t take him back. He’d been armed with a handgun and both Rick and Morgan were forced to draw on him before he finally relented and gave himself up. They’d taken him to hospital, it was clear the man had mental health issues, confirmed by the young woman and so he went straight to a 72 hour medical assessment.

Finally Rick’s shift is over; it feels as though he’s just pulled a double it’s been so taxing. So much so that Rick suddenly wishes his apartment had a bathtub and not just a shower cubicle. Morgan offers to take him out for a drink as they park the cruiser back at the station but Rick declines. He’s too tired to head to a bar right now and it’s too early really. Besides, what Rick really wants to do is get back to the hospital before Daryl gets subjected to yet another stripwash. Before he makes his way there however, Rick swings past Kroger because it’d take one hell of an emergency to get him inside a Wal-mart. He fills his cart with anything he thinks Daryl might need and then heads over to a pizza place down the road from the hospital.

_ Hey, shifts over. You eaten yet? _

_ Nah, not yet. Good shift? _

Rick heads inside and checks out the menu, trying to guess at what sort of toppings Daryl likes. Not Hawaiian he hopes, he never understood why anyone would willingly put fruit on a pizza or anchovies, tiny fish on a pizza? He shudders remembering the time they’d put them in the sauce by mistake and he’d had to pick every single one out.

_ Let’s just say I’m glad it’s over. I’m starving you like pizza? _

_ Sure. Ain’t ya had enough of me yet? _

Rick holds back a laugh, if Daryl had any idea how boring his life outside of work is he wouldn’t bother asking that.

_ Not quite. Meat lovers alright? No deer though, sorry. _

_ Meat lovers sounds good. _

Rick orders a couple of cans of Pepsi and a meat feast big enough for them both to eat and have left overs, thinking that Daryl might appreciate it come the morning when they hand out the crappy, poor excuse for breakfast. He slings them in the car and heads over to the hospital. A fifteen minute drive and a quick scuffle for a parking space later and he’s standing outside Daryl’s door. He knocks three times gently and waits until he hears Daryl’s grunt before opening it just enough to peer in with a smile.

“Pizza delivery!” Rick chimes as he steps into the room holding the box before him. Daryl is sitting up in bed again and looking good, his dressings have been changed and his bad arm is wrapped in a shoulder brace with a sling attached, giving him a better range of motion. His catheter has been removed and the usual red flush of pain and medication has given way to a much peachier colour. His eyes, when they flick momentarily to meet Rick’s own are star-bright and the most perfect shade of blue.

“Hey Rick,” Daryl replies with that special little quirk of the left side of his mouth that makes Rick’s smile double in size as he walks into the room and takes his usual seat.

“Hey, brought you a Pepsi, hope that’s ok?” Rick says as he pulls the cans out and hands one over then proceeds to open the box and offer it out for Daryl to take a slice, pulling another out for himself. The smell of the freshly baked dough, the spicy meat and the tang of the tomato sauce fills Rick’s lungs and he breaths in deep with a small groan at how hungry he is. When he looks up Daryl is holding his slice a few inches away from his face and his cheeks are tinged with pink once more. Rick thinks it’s probably coming around to medication time and wonders if Daryl’s starting to feel his injuries again. He doesn’t say anything though; Daryl’s already proven he doesn’t like to be coddled; he’s more than capable of calling for more painkillers if he needs them.

“Thanks. Fer the food I mean,” Daryl says quietly, into his slice.

“It’s no problem, really I was starved anyway. Morgan and I didn’t get to have a decent lunch and I know how shitty hospital food can be. Were the nurses nice today?” Daryl’s eyes are finally on him again as he speaks, he relaxes a little and carries on eating.

“Morgan’s yer partner, right?” Daryl asks and Rick nods with his mouth full. “Nurses were alright, had a kid come in earlier, Noah. Said he met ya, wanted ta check in make sure I’m doin alright.” His lips quirk again as he speaks. “Little blonde thing came ‘round bout an hour ago. Wanted ta gimme another wash.” The tiny smile morphs into a frown as he speaks and he hastily starts eating again.

“And you didn’t let her?” Rick teases.

“Fuck Rick, girl looked about twenty! No way I was lettin ‘er put ‘er hands on me,” Rick snorts at Daryl’s look of feigned disgust and notices when the blush rushes across Daryl’s face once more. “Sides, told ya, prefer brunettes,” he continues in a small voice, eyes darting away from Rick’s face once more and concentrating on his pizza.  

Rick laughs out loud then and finds himself thinking that Daryl is actually a little bit cute for a grown man with his red face and eyes that don’t seem to know where to look, not that he’s ever found a guy cute before and he can feel his own cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the unexpected rush of affection. He coughs to clear the lump of pizza that seems to have lodged itself in his throat and grasps around for a change of subject.

“So, you ever see anyone from back home?” Rick asks still feeling a little thrown by the direction his thoughts seem to be taking.

“Not really. Come across Graham Steele once or twice. Remember him?” Daryl asks.

“Yeah, I remember him. Is he still a complete ass?” Rick chuckles and watches Daryl’s lips twist into a hint of a grimace.

“Yeah, still a tool. Remember he used to hang around with Pete n that lot. Fuck they were assholes,” Daryl grouches.

“Yeah they were. Remember that time he tried to climb the flagpole? Mr.  Cleveland caught him and he ended up slipping and breaking his arm?” Rick laughs; he’d been in Math class at the time and saw it all from the window.

Daryl chuckles along with him at the memory. “Yeah, prick walked around with that cast on like it was a fuckin medal for weeks.”

“Oh and Amelia Rathbone, she had a major crush on you in school you know?” Rick teases again because he’s really starting to like it when Daryl blushes and he’s pretty sure Daryl had no idea about Amelia. She was a pretty girl back then and no doubt if he’d had any idea they would’ve dated. Come to think of it Rick is pretty sure he’d never heard a whisper about Daryl dating anyone in school.

“Pft!” Daryl half huffs, half snorts and the sound is so different to any other Rick has heard from the man that it nearly makes him jump. “Pretty sure yer imaginin’ things. But yeah I remember her. Had a brother that used ta hang round with Merle from time ta time. One of the only ones that weren’t a total fuck up.”

“Bet Merle was hard ta grow up with,” Rick asks quietly.

“Nah Merle always did right by me. Could be a mean son of a bitch sometimes but he weren’t all bad,” Daryl says, his voice laced with a hint of pride and fondness but Rick can see that the topic is still a tough one for Daryl so he changes the subject again.

“Ok I’m done!” Rick declares after demolishing his third slice. There’s still quite a lot of pizza left in the box, more than enough for Daryl to eat for breakfast and lunch tomorrow if he wants. He finishes his Pepsi, draining the can as he watches Daryl finish his slice, close the lid on the box and then he hands it out for Rick to take.

“Was good, thanks,” Daryl says as Rick takes the box and walks it over to the empty table beside the bed.

“Like I said, no problem. I’m leaving the rest for you, just in case they try and serve you cereal for breakfast again tomorrow,” He laughs and is pleased to hear the quiet exhale of a gentle chuckle beside him. It’s then he notices the way that Daryl’s eyes flick over to the packet of smokes sat on the table beside him and Rick wonders whether anyone’s taken him down so he can light up.

“Are you allowed out of bed yet?” Rick probes.

Daryl brings a hand up to his face and starts chewing on a hangnail along his thumb and Rick thinks he looks nervous, definitely jonesing for a smoke. Daryl shrugs a little one shouldered movement that’s followed by an obvious grunt of discomfort.

“Alright, let me just go check,” Rick says as he heads out to find a nurse. He heads over to the desk where the pretty blonde nurse is filling out paperwork and puts on his most dazzling smile for her.

“Hi officer, is everything ok?” Rick almost laughs at the way she goes bright red, looking flustered he manages to get her permission to take Daryl out and she even runs off to find him a wheelchair and a second hospital gown hung over her arm. “Thought you could use a smoke,” Rick says as he steps back in the room and smiles at the way Daryl’s face lights up at the thought then he looks down along his body and frowns suddenly.

“Ain’t really dressed fer goin outside,” Daryl grumbles looking slightly embarrassed at his state of dress, he is, after all just wearing a regular hospital gown which doesn’t leave much to the imagination after all.

“Here,” The nurse holds out the spare gown for him to see then starts helping him move his leg so he can get positioned on the edge of the bed. Rick makes a point of standing directly in front, holding onto the wheelchair so that he doesn’t accidentally see anything that Daryl doesn’t want him to. She drapes the spare gown around his shoulders, covering up the gap at the back and helps Daryl slowly make his way into the chair. Rick thanks her and picks up the packet of smokes and lighter from the table, dropping them into Daryl’s lap and smiles down at him.

“Ready to go?” He asks beaming at the even bigger lift to Daryl’s mouth.

“Fuck yeah, let’s go!” Rick laughs at the clear delight he hears in Daryl’s tone and slowly they make their way out of the room and off the ward. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter you´ve all been waiting for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here I am in Norway! 
> 
> God I love this place so much guy´s I´d live here if I could. 
> 
> We are in North Norway, a town called Bodø for anyone who is interested. (and I´m using a Norweigan computer so any random little symbols that appear in here - please ignore!) 
> 
> So today we went on an 11km walk with my three little kiddos who are used to living in Norfolk UK. Basically the flattest part of the UK so it was wonderful, but terribly stressful. 
> 
> I was unsure whether I´d get a chance to upload this chapter at all today, but a glass of wine and a little bit of Norweigan chocolate ( THE BEST IMO) and here it is. 
> 
> I haven't had a chance to give this a little go over as I normally do so please ignore any random errors you might find throughout the text. 
> 
> Anyway - more thanks for Tweedo for whipping this into shape for me and gushing over the little details in that wonderful way that she does. 
> 
> And also for Marooncamaro who I miss terribly at the moment!! I havent spoken to her in AGEEEES and I absolutley cannot wait to get back to my regular schedule and being able to natter to her all night long! Miss you love!

Rick smiles as Daryl takes that first deep inhale of acrid smoke into his desperate lungs. He watches the tension seep from Daryl's shoulders and the seemingly permanent crease of the man's brow soften as the nicotine rushes through his veins and it floods Rick with a wave of expected warmth. It's clear that this is something Daryl desperately needs and Rick is strangely comforted by the notion that it was his idea. That he somehow knew exactly what this stoic man needed before he even had the chance to ask. He's gratified to find that even though he doesn't really know  _ this  _ Daryl, this grown up, world weary version of the boy he almost knew years ago, he’s still managed to figure out what Daryl needs. Maybe it's just his police training that allows him to read between the lines and see things that aren't outwardly apparent. Something buried deep within Rick's chest, a weird twisting, clenching sensation as he watches Daryl's eyes close and his face turn towards the sky tells him that it's quite possibly nothing at all to do with his profession.    
  
Daryl's eyes remain shut and Rick takes the opportunity to study his face. The natural light makes Daryl's recovering skin look ashen, cold and unnatural. His eyelids are a soft shade of purple that flicker with the unconscious movement of the eyes beneath them and the smattering of bruises adorning his skin are slowly healing. The previously violent black marks have begun to fade out to dark smudges tinged with green and yellow around the edges, the colours are ugly but Rick knows they’ll look worse before they are fully healed.    
  
As Daryl brings the cigarette back up to his lips, Rick's eyes are drawn to the movement. He notices again the beauty mark above Daryl's mouth and thinks it should look out of place on a man with a face like his but instead it's oddly perfect. It's not until Rick hears a tiny huff of amusement that he realises Daryl is looking at him, lips twitching. Those blue eyes, captured in a strand of sunlight and highlighted with flecks of denim and steel, have just caught him staring...at Daryl's mouth no less. Rick cringes internally and he knows he's blushing. Feeling a little mortified, he clears his throat and with a little tilt to his head and a raised eyebrow he silently asks Daryl a question.    
  
"Mmmm. Needed this. Thanks for bringin' me down, Rick," Daryl answers the unspoken question as if he can read minds and Rick let's his own lips curl into a smile.  _ Suck, inhale, eyes closed, exhale. _

  
"I'll make sure someone brings you down when I'm not here," Rick says firmly, finally looking away from Daryl and out across the street. He can feel eyes on him now but he doesn't turn back. Just studies the multitude of people rushing in and out of the building, some dressed in the standard hospital attire just like Daryl but with dressing gowns tied tight around their bodies, shuffling their slipper covered feet. Others drag rolling IV stands with them, the tubes still pumping fluids even as they light up. More than a few are being pushed around in wheelchairs just the same as Daryl and Rick's sure the sight is equally comforting and embarrassing for the man. Especially considering most of the patients unable to move under their own power are elderly. Daryl manages to turn his body towards Rick with a bit of effort and a small grunt and Rick looks down at the noise.    
  
"Want some?" Daryl holds the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger with the lit end pointed to the floor, reaching his hand out in offering. The wisps of smoke curl around his finger like an oriental dance, swirling around the slightly damp, tar stained filter and for just a moment Rick is tempted. His fingers twitch as if he's going to reach out and take it but it's been years since he smoked and he's not really sure why he even considered it.   
  
"I'm good, thanks," Rick shakes his head and smiles kindly.    
  
"Not a smoker?" Daryl asks resuming the cycle once more.  _ Suck, inhale, eyes closed, exhale. _

  
"Not for a long time now. Kind of hard to keep up with the training with shredded lungs,” he nods down to his uniform as he speaks, noting the way Daryl's eyes follow the movement and he nods as if that's exactly the answer he was expecting.    
  
"Started when I was round nine, I reckon. Meant ta stop but never got round ta it,"  _ suck, inhale, eyes closed, exhale _ . Rick knows it's true, he never once saw Daryl outside of school without a cigarette dangling from his lips or twisting a pack between his fingers like a nervous twitch.    
  
"Leather jacket, biker boots, fierce scowl and cigarettes,” Rick blurts out with a sheepish grin on his face. "That’s how I always remembered you. The perfect bad boy image,” he adds at Daryl's lifted eyebrow.    
  
Daryl snorts, like the mental image provided is ludicrous but Rick thinks back to the bundle of possessions the nurses handed over. Leather vest, pack of smokes and Rick just knows there's a pair of boots somewhere in the mix.  _ Suck, inhale, eyes closed, exhale. _ It's mesmerising. That is, until Daryl flicks the cherry red filter out onto the grass and nods in the direction of the entrance.    
  
"Reckon they'll be ready fer me now," Daryl says with a curl to his lips that almost looks like a snarl. He doesn't need to explain that look, Rick already understands what he’s unhappy about.    
  
"Yeah, so about that,” Rick starts. “I told you I had a plan....." he explains the idea as he wheels Daryl back up to the ward, thinking it's better to have him on board before he speaks to the nursing staff. He wouldn't want to risk making Daryl feel even more uncomfortable or put him in a position where he felt he couldn't say no.    
  
It's a simple one really. Rick's suggestion is that the nursing staff allow Daryl the privacy to wash himself. It's not as if he's incapable, though Rick understands that it might prove to be a little tricky, especially working around the cast and bandages. They'll want him to be supervised of course, Daryl still isn't able to support his own weight and that could be a potential fall risk. No hospital wants a lawsuit on their hands because a patient slips and hurts themselves while washing alone. So Rick tells Daryl that he'll stay in the room, hand him the cloth, help with any difficult to reach bits if he needs it and he'll help him to get dressed. Daryl is quiet and Rick starts to wonder if it might of been a bit presumptuous of him to suggest. It’s possible that Daryl might actually feel more comfortable letting the nurses help him, it’s not like him and Rick know each other that well and at least the hospital staff are getting paid to do the job.    
  
"Shit! I forgot I brought clothes for you," Rick says suddenly, halting the wheelchair just outside the ward. "I hope you don't mind, I just figured you'd like something other than that gown,” he blanches at the sharp look Daryl throws his way.    
  
"Can't believe ya let me go out there with this shit on when ya've got a bag o'clothes waitin in the room,” Daryl grouches and Rick lips twitch into a smile. Tries not to. Fails.    
  
"Sorry," Rick says around his smirk. "Blue really is your colour though you know," he teases, pushing the chair into motion once more. 

“Alright. Reckon that’ll work fer me. Gotta promise ya ain’t gonna watch me. I ain’t givin’ a free show,” Daryl’s voice is rough as he speaks, quiet and gravelly and Rick can tell from his tone that this is a big concession for him to make. Daryl doesn’t like being helpless, doesn’t like having to be taken care of. He’s already worked that one out for himself. 

“I promise I’ll keep my back to you,” Rick soothes as he wheels Daryl backwards into his room once more. Moving around to stand beside Daryl, he reaches out to place a hand around his back, cupping it underneath Daryl’s uninjured arm and holds firm on his ribcage with the other careful to avoid his brace. Daryl’s cheeks burn at the contact and his eyes are focused firmly on the floor. From this close Rick can almost feel the heat from Daryl’s face and his racing heartbeat. So, Daryl’s not a fan of close contact either, Rick adds that to the list of information he’s steadily accumulating about Daryl Dixon. He helps support Daryl as he lifts himself out of the wheelchair with his good arm and leans his weight on Rick as he slowly twists himself around, half hopping on his one good leg to maneuver himself back onto the edge of the bed. He’s a little breathless when he finally sits and makes no attempt to lie back, just letting his cast covered leg rest against the floor. 

“You’ll be alright there for a second while I go and speak to the nurse?” Rick asks, silently assessing Daryl’s perched position and ensuring there's no chance of him falling. 

“Yeah, ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Daryl grumbles. Rick nods and heads out to find someone to speak to. A few minutes later and Rick is back armed with a large bowl of hot water, the steam curling up and over the black plastic. He pauses as the door closes behind him because Daryl has managed to slip the hospital gown off thanks to the shoulder snaps, leaving him bare down to the waist where he’s let the fabric pool around his hips. Rick quickly averts his eyes. Daryl asked for as much privacy as he can get and he sure as hell is gonna give the guy that. He drops the bowl onto the little table and drags it carefully closer to the bed then walks back around to the other side to fetch his bag and rummage for the little stash of toiletries, the towels and clothes he’d packed in there earlier. As he lays everything out on the bed his eyes flick involuntarily up to the heavily scarred skin adorning Daryl’s back that is now fully on show. The marks he’d seen creeping over Daryl’s shoulder before are nothing compared to the litany of scars that cover the broad expanse of his back and Rick can see the marks continue down past the bundled fabric puddled around Daryl’s hips.

A cold rage festers underneath Rick’s flesh, he can feel it oozing through his veins like a thick, cloying tar. For a long, drawn out moment he hears nothing but the heavy pounding of his own heart in his ears and the echo of the ticking clock reverberating around the room like some sickening countdown. He’s seen plenty of abuse cases working the job he does and he knows the marks he’s seeing were caused years ago but it doesn’t stop him from feeling unreasonably angry at the sight. There’s an entire novel of malice and hatred written across Daryl’s back in thick, ropey lash marks and small circular burns. A belt and cigarettes, Rick assess with a keen, trained eye. He can feel his lip curling in a feral snarl. The rage he feels makes him want to hunt whoever did it down and see how they enjoy the peppery, metallic taste of his firearm. He pulls a deep breath into his lungs and grinds his teeth together in an attempt to force the sickening feeling back down. The sound is obviously louder in the small room than he intended it to be because Daryl’s face turns slightly, out of the corner of his eye he quietly watches as Rick pulls himself back up to standing with his fists still wrapped around the towel and wash cloth, his knuckles pinched white around the fabric. Daryl shrugs his good shoulder briefly, looking down at his lap for a moment as Rick makes his way back around to stand before him once more. 

“Long time ago,” Daryl explains, not even needing to hear the question. “Ain’t nothin’ worth gettin’ worked up ‘bout now, asshole already got what he deserved,” he says quietly but his features twist into something dark and despite that, Rick’s estimation of the man soars. He’s impressed that someone can go through so much and not be bitter, twisted and angry with the world. He realizes he has no right to feel this all consuming fury on Daryl’s behalf, not if the man himself has made some semblance of peace with his past.

“Ok,” Is all that Rick can manage right now and he says the word through a tightly clamped jaw and gritted teeth. Daryl nods as if the matter has been settled and Rick returns the gesture before handing the towel over. He reaches over and grabs the bottle of body wash and pours a generous amount into the warm water, swirling it around with his hand and dipping the wash cloth in before squeezing out the excess and handing it to Daryl who makes no move to use it. 

Daryl looks up and catches Rick’s eye, looking slightly nervous with his bottom lip caught between blunt white teeth. “Need ya help,” he says quietly nodding to the strap holding his shoulder and elbow in place across his chest. He moves his good arm to peel apart the velcro that sits across his body at the same time Rick leans over and reaches for the one that undoes around the back, slowly pulling the teeth apart with a satisfying ripping sound. Rick instinctively cradles Daryl’s elbow in the palm of his hand, keeping it steady as they unwrap the brace and tries not to notice the tiny flinch that comes with the contact. Or that he’s close enough to breath in the very masculine scent of cigarettes, a light hint of sweat and something natural and earthy. He can’t help but glance at Daryl out of the corner of his eye and notice the red flush that’s once again creeping across his cheeks, nor does he miss the way Daryl’s breathing seems to quicken under his touch. 

Rick backs away, gently pulling the brace with him and places it on the bed. He slowly lowers Daryl’s arm to rest on his lap and stands beside the bowl of water once more, turning his back without saying a word. He needs to take a second to focus because being so close to Daryl in that moment felt far more intimate than it should have and he’s not entirely sure how to process that. As he stands facing away from Daryl he tries to ignore the sounds of the fabric brushing along Daryl’s body behind him instead he concentrates on the steady ticking of the clock and studies the tiny cracks that run across ceiling and reads the faded posters about CPR and the correct way to wash your hands that are pinned to the wall. He’s doing well until he feels a gentle brush of fingertips against his bare forearm and the unexpected contact startles him. He turns slightly and Daryl is holding the cloth out to him. He takes it and dips it into the water once more, squeezing it out and handing it back without glancing behind him. They say nothing as they repeat the process a few more times until Daryl has managed to wash everything he can reach by himself, the atmosphere is thick and loaded and Rick can almost taste it on his tongue. 

“Thanks,” Daryl says handing him back the cloth one final time and Rick just holds it in his hand for a moment, contemplating. He rinses it in the water again, pulling it back out and motions towards Daryl’s back with a nod of his head and a pointed gaze. 

“Turn around,” Rick says, his tone is gentle but he unintentionally laces it with a hint of his official police voice, unconsciously attempting to reassure Daryl that he’s a professional first and foremost. When he’s in uniform, doing his job he’s a calming presence, people trust him unlike some other cops he knows. Morgan tells him there’s something about his face, his demeanor and his tone that elicits a sense of safety and security and he does his best to use that in his favour now. Daryl shakes his head, a tiny movement that is almost imperceptible. As if he’s not really saying no to Rick, but debating with himself. 

“It’s alright Daryl,” Rick soothes motioning to him once more. Daryl seems to war with himself for another moment before slowly, twisting his body and presenting his marred skin to Rick while still keeping Rick in view out of the corner of his eye. He reminds Rick of a nervous animal, skittish and unsure. Wary of the hand that reaches out to him even if it is offering care and attention. So Rick makes sure he angles his body in such a way that Daryl can still see him clearly, can see that he has no intentions of doing anything but help him to get clean. He brings the cloth to Daryl’s shoulder first, gently placing it on his skin and brushing it across the broad expanse in soft, gentle strokes. Rick’s free hand lifts automatically and comes to rest along Daryl’s trapezius so he can get the leverage he needs as he continues to carefully wipe the day’s sweat from Daryl’s back. The muscle twitches under his fingers and Rick hears a faint intake of breath as he skates over the lines criss crossing Daryl’s skin. He focusses hard on ignoring the brutal marks as he drags the cloth over each one and after a few moments Daryl’s head dips low, eyes staring down into his lap and the muscles that were tense just a moment ago gradually begin to relax under his ministrations. He covers every inch of Daryl’s back before chucking the cloth back into the bowl and reaching for the towel. He takes just as much care drying as he has with washing and when he’s finished he allows his fingers to squeeze the muscle underneath ever so slightly before he lets go. A gesture of thanks, trust or comfort he’s not entirely sure but as he moves back, Daryl’s head dips in a small nod once more before he twists back to face Rick head on.

“I’m not touching your feet, I don’t like you that much,” Rick says with a serious look on his face, betrayed by the twinkle of amusement in his eye and the slight twitching of his lip as it tries to break out in a grin. It has the desired effect, Daryl’s own mouth quirks at the corner and he lets loose a little breathy snort of amusement. 

“Ain’t gonna make ya do that,” Daryl teases, running his good hand across the back of his neck and over the exact place Rick’s hand had just been resting. 

Rick reaches for the neatly folded clothes he brought and holds up Shane’s old tee-shirt. “Think this should just about fit you,” he says pushing his hands into the fabric and opening up the sleeve enough to carefully maneuver Daryl’s arm into it without hurting him. It’s difficult and Daryl winces a little with the tugging of the material but they manage it and within a few moments Daryl’s torso is covered in stretchy black cotton that hugs those wide shoulders, sagging slightly around his narrow waist and it looks good. He helps Daryl’s arm back into the brace next, securing it tight over the tee and makes a mental note to get one of the nurses to check to make sure he’s done it right. 

“That feel ok?” Rick asks smoothing his hand over the velcro strap that covers Daryl’s chest once more. 

“S’good,” Daryl’s voice is rough again and Rick’s eyes dart up to his face, worried that he may have accidentally hurt him but his blue eyes are bright and open, not narrowed or pinched in pain so he moves back and grabs up the soft pants from the bed and kneels down at Daryl’s feet. He carefully lifts the leg covered in a cast and with as much care as he can manage he pulls the sweats on, stretching them wide enough to cover the cast without jostling it too much. He drags the fabric on until Daryl’s toes poke through, then holds the other side open for Daryl to lift his foot into. Rick is suddenly very aware of the position they are both currently in and just how difficult it is going to be for them to manage to get the sweats pulled all the way up. He sits back on his heels slightly, looking up into Daryl’s face which has his embarrassment at his own vulnerability written all over it once more. Rick considers his options for a few seconds before pulling the pants up and letting them rest on Daryl’s knees. 

“Think if you hold on to me you can pull them up the rest of the way?” he asks carefully. 

“Shit don’ think this is gonna work, Rick.” Daryl frets, looking nervous again and Rick supposes he’s right. He’d planned to have him stand up, to help support him whilst he finished dressing but there’s no chance Daryl can hold onto Rick  _ and  _ still have a hand free to do anything with. 

“How about this,” Rick says grabbing the discarded hospital issue gown and slipping it over Daryl’s shoulders, covering his entire back even over the tee. He fastens a couple of the shoulder snaps to help keep it in place. “You’re gonna stand and I’ll hold you steady ok?” He says, confident. 

“Alright…..alright, don’t ya fuckin drop me though, officer friendly.” Daryl says with a tight voice, steeling himself for a move that is obviously still going to be fairly difficult and pretty damned awkward. 

Rick moves to Daryl’s side and helps him to stand on his one good leg, twisting his body so that if he needs to he can brace himself on the bed and if he  _ should  _ fall, he’ll land on something soft instead of the hard, cold floor. He places his hands on Daryl’s hips at first but quickly acknowledges that it won’t be a strong enough grip, so he wraps his arms around Daryl’s waist encouraging him to lean back against his chest. Rick can see the harsh scowl plastered on Daryl’s face, can feel his muscles tensing underneath his wide spread palms and just knows he’s uncomfortable. He should’ve just called a fucking nurse in to help instead of pushing Daryl to do something that is obviously unsettling for him but they’re here now so they may as well get it over with. As soon as Daryl leans over to grasp at the sweats Rick realizes this probably wasn’t a good idea at all, he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek and clenches his palms into fists. Daryl’s warm body presses and moves against him, he smells like Rick’s body wash, like his laundry detergent too but still like the cigarettes and that earthy tang that belongs to Daryl alone. He angles his body away from Daryl’s hips, trying to give him space, to give himself space too as Daryl finally manages to wrestle the waistband up to rest on his hips. Rick hastily helps him get resettled on the bed after pulling the gown from his shoulders and the heavy exhale that escapes his lungs as he detaches from Daryl’s warm heat is shaky and loud.

Daryl instantly reclines back with his eyes closed and a pained expression on his face and Rick is more than happy to give him a few moments. He grabs up the bowl of water and mutters something barely audible about getting rid of it then hurries out of the room. As soon as the door clicks shut behind him Rick leans against it, his head hits the wood with a soft thump and he wonders what the fuck just happened. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Daryl's hospital stay is OVER!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this update is a little guys, I'm back home in the UK now and have access to my usual computer (the one I used in Norway was terrible.) 
> 
> There will still be an update as usual on Saturday this week. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to everyone still reading and commenting, I'm so happy every time I get an email notification from you guys telling me how much you're enjoying reading this. 
> 
> I know it's a slow burn and sometimes they can go on for a bit but I swear we are moving towards the THANGS!

Rick leaves Daryl at the hospital not long after bringing one of the nurses in to check they’d fitted the brace correctly. He’d intended to stay until visiting hours were over but Daryl looked exhausted and in pain after all the moving around so Rick decided to make his excuses and head home for the night. As he turns the key in the ignition the car radio springs to life, blasting out the classic rock station he’d left it on earlier that day and he slams his palm down on the off switch before he can even recognize what song is playing. He’s in no mood to listen to guitar rifts and the steady beating of a drum while some aged rock star who is probably long dead warbles about love, sex and drugs. He wants peace, if only he could shut his mind down as well as the music.

Rick drives around in aimless circles for what feels like hours, ignoring the scenery around him. Just letting his mind calm and focus on the steady purr of the engine and the vibrations running through the steering wheel. He can’t  _ still  _ be crushing on Daryl can he? After all these years? Is that why he’s had no luck with any of the, granted very few, women he’s tried to date? Because he wants something hard and rough instead of soft and fragile? It’s been years since he last found a man attractive, maybe once or twice in passing a few years after college but he’d been married to Lori by then and they were still happy. He’d never even considered dating a guy once she left, then again, he hadn’t really been interested in dating at all. 

Rick finds himself pulling into the parking lot of  _ his _ bar on autopilot but doesn’t make a move to get out of the car. He sits with the engine running and stares vacantly at the building before him, not really seeing the black framed glass doors, the red and grey bricked walls or the couple that stand outside sharing a cigarette. Hard and rough? Is that really what he thinks Daryl is? Suddenly he realizes where he is and wonders whether the fact that he drove himself to a bar should mean anything. He contemplates going in, parking himself on a stool and getting wasted but he has work again in the morning and he learned not long after Lori left that drinking your problems away never really works the way you hope it will. So instead he puts the car in drive and swings out of the lot, paying more attention to where he’s heading this time around. 

It doesn’t take Rick long to get back to his apartment and he drops his bag as soon as he’s through the door, heads straight to the fridge to crack open a beer and dumps himself on the sofa. He’s not drinking away his problems, he tells himself as he flicks the TV on and starts scanning through the channels. NCIS is on and it’s one of his favorite shows so he settles in and tries to solve the case before the team can. He clears his mind of everything but the gentle flickering of the TV, just enjoying a cold beer after a long day and works on figuring out who’s behind this week's murder. He relaxes into the soft cushions at his back, kicks off his boots, pulls his socks off and rubs his hand over the red impressions the cuffs have made around his ankles. He reaches for his phone, there’s no way he’s going to jeopardize this little tentative friendship he has going on with Daryl so, steeling himself and putting his confused feelings in a tiny little lock box he fires off a quick message.

_ Channel 28 NCIS. think it was the lawyer. _

It’s fifteen minutes before Rick gets a reply and he’d started to think that Daryl had finally succumbed to a medicated sleep. He’d abandoned his phone and headed for the bedroom to quickly change out of his uniform and throw on a loose t-shirt and some pajama bottoms before heading back in and grabbing himself another beer from the kitchen. 

_ Tellin me yer a cop? Its got husband written all over it _

_ Ah come on, I may be a cop but detective work is a whole other ball game. The husband?  _

Rick sighs and lounges deeper into the sofa cushions, comfortable now that he’s changed clothes and finished that first beer. He feels much more centered which, if he really analyzes it probably has quite a lot to do with the familiar easy banter between Daryl and himself. He’d worried that the weird, awkward atmosphere at the hospital after he’d helped Daryl wash and dress may have made them both feel uncomfortable, may have even ruined everything. He has no idea how Daryl would react if he knew what he had been thinking. He’d spent more than enough time throwing guys like Merle Dixon in an overnight cell, listening to the vitriol that spews forth from ignorant and homophobic rednecks. Not that he considers Daryl to be cut from the same cloth of course, if he were, then he would never have allowed Rick to continue visiting after the first time he turned up in uniform. It doesn’t change the fact that he may possibly still hold some, if not all the same beliefs that his brother quite clearly held, they are in the south after all. Rick decides he really would prefer not to test those boundaries just yet. 

_ Wanna make a bet on it Officer Friendly?  _

_ I’ll bet you a six pack that it’s NOT the husband. _

Rick thinks it’s a win for him either way, it means that he’ll have a good excuse to carry on seeing Daryl once he’s home from the hospital. He wonders for a moment whether Daryl will  _ want  _ to carry on their friendship once he’s home and back to work. He hopes so. 

_ Make it a bottle of Jack n yer on _

It was the husband, of course it was. Rick grins to himself even though he’s lost and laughs loud and unreservedly when Daryl teases him about his policing skills or lack thereof. 

_ Swear they don teach cops nothin these days  _

_ I know how to hand out a traffic ticket that’s something right?  _

Rick can just hear Daryl’s soft snort of amusement as if he were sitting right there in the room beside him, he can picture the way Daryl’s eyes glitter with amusement as he tries to stifle his smile. It’s almost as if Daryl is self conscious of his teeth, or just not used to smiling so much. He thinks he’d rather like to see how Daryl’s face would change if he were to let go and really grin, what his teeth would look like and whether his eyes would crinkle at the corners. They text back and forth for another hour or so until Rick’s second beer is lying on the coffee table, discarded and empty and his eyelids start to feel heavy. He’s just about to drift off when his phone pings and startles him, causing him to jump and nearly knock it to the floor.

_ I gotta crash Rick, I’m as tired as a one legged man in an asskicking contest. U comin back tomorrow?  _

_ Aren’t you sick of me yet Dixon?  _

Rick grins, reiterating Daryl’s own words back to him and hits send. He stands and switches the tv off, takes the beer bottles and throws them in the trash then crawls into bed. He settles down into the soft sprung mattress, spreading out across the bed and rubbing his feet in circles against the cool bedding. 

_ Ain’t gettin sick of seein them curls of yours just yet Grimes. _

_ Oh? And there I was thinking you only liked me for bringing you pizza. Get some rest I’ll see you tomorrow. _

Rick buries his face into his pillow and breaths deep. He feels like today has been an emotional rollercoaster, seemingly endless and he’s exhausted. As he slowly begins to drift off his weary mind replays every touch and brush of Daryl’s warm skin against his own, every heated glance he’s sure he didn’t imagine from those turbulent blue eyes that seem to really  _ see _ him. He begins to drift off with flushed skin, a smile on his face and a half-hearted attempt at arousal. Sleepily, he considers wrapping a hand around himself for the first time in weeks but his eyes are closed already and his body is worn out. Before he can do anything about the steadily rising heat, he falls into a sleep filled with dreams of motorcycles, forest floors and blue eyes that are always asking him a question he can never really make out. 

The following day at work is about as routine as police work can get. He spends most of the day at the station filling paperwork and catching up on the grunt work that had been left over from the night shift. He’s there to help book in a couple of kids caught fishing while under the influence of some illegal substance and a woman caught shoplifting. It’s tedious work, he prefers being out in the field, driving the cruiser and really getting to help people but desk work is something they all have to do and today is his and Morgan’s turn. While he’s there he decides to bring up Merle’s file out of pure curiosity and finds a string of DUIs, resisting arrest, possession and public disturbance charges. The older Dixon seemed to have been in and out of jail, starting with juvy at a fairly young age. He’s not all that surprised if he’s completely honest with himself. He does, after all, remember Merle quite clearly from back home and the rumours surrounding the brash redneck were far worse than what is currently staring back at him on the police database. He can’t help looking up Daryl’s file next, he knows he really shouldn’t but his fingers have typed it in and hit the enter key before his conscience can tell him not to. What he finds floods him with an overwhelming feeling of utter relief. Daryl has a file, he’d be surprised if he didn’t, but his is simply the odd overnight stint in the drunk tank, normally coinciding with many of Merle’s arrest dates. It seems as though Daryl really isn’t anything much like his brother, only caught along in Merle’s tidal flow and dragged into murky water alongside him. 

It’s just past lunch time when he gets another message from Daryl, he  _ had  _ meant to text him this morning but he’d hit the snooze button one too many times and it’d almost made him late for his shift, rushing into the station with a minute or two to go, his wild curls untamed and his face unshaven and rough underneath his palm. 

_ Doc’s just been in, they’re gonna let me go today.  _

_ That’s great news, when are you getting out?  _

Rick can’t help but worry that it’s a little early for Daryl to be going home and wonders how he’s going to manage with one leg in a cast and an arm in a sling but he supposes the hospital wouldn’t discharge him before he was ready. Besides, Daryl is probably chomping at the bit to escape the place already and insurance only covers so much. 

_ Sometime this afternoon they said. Gotta switch out this cast first n sort out a ride.  _

_ I’ll give you a ride home. I get off at four again, reckon they’ll keep you until then?  _

There’s no way Rick is letting Daryl take a cab home and it’s pretty evident that he has no one else he can, or wants to call to come and get him. Rick doesn’t even hesitate to offer him a ride, part of him wants to find out where Daryl lives and  _ how  _ he lives. He wonders whether Daryl has his own house or an apartment and how far away from town he is. 

_ Nah it's alright you done enough for me already I’ll call for a cab don't wanna put ya out.  _

_ Daryl, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it anyway how else am I going to know where to deliver that bottle of Jack to?  _

Rick’s not stupid, he didn’t think for a second that Daryl would agree to letting him help again without a good reason to and their earlier bet is the perfect way to get him to agree. 

_ Alright but I’m buyin dinner to say thanks.  _

_ Deal, I’ll swing round after my shifts done. I like chinese food ;)  _

Yes, yes he really fucking did just send a winking emoji and it takes everything he has not to bang his head on his desk in mortification. Rick’s face burns red hot and he hides it in the palms of his hands his elbows resting on the desk and resists the urge to groan at himself. 

_ That a winky face?  _

Oh god.

_ Guilty! _

Now he really does groan and it’s loud enough for Tracey in the booth beside him to take notice with one eyebrow cocked up in question. He waves her off with a flick of his wrist and concentrates very hard on the screen before him, his eyes drop to his phone every now and then but it’s another five minutes before he gets a reply. 

_ Very cute Officer catch you later ;) _

Well, then. Rick shoves his phone back into his pocket with a ridiculous grin on his face and tries hard to throw himself into his work for the rest of the afternoon. The smile that keeps creeping across his features has Morgan and Tracey asking him questions the whole time and he finds out that he actually doesn’t mind the horrific amount of teasing he’s getting. He knows they imagine he has some new woman in his life and he is more than happy to let them think that. The end of his shift can’t come fast enough. 

Daryl is waiting for him at the hospital entrance when he finally arrives later that day. He’d texted to tell Rick that they were letting him go and he was gonna grab himself a coffee and wait out front. So when Rick pulls up his eyes are immediately drawn to the statuesque figure Daryl cuts against the stark white building. He’s up on his own two feet, propped up ever so slightly against a concrete pillar, one leg encased from the shin down in a bulky black walking cast with his pants leg rucked up to make room for it. He’s supporting the majority of his weight on a single crutch held firmly underneath his uninjured arm with a lit cigarette dangling from his fingertips. Rick can see his bad shoulder is still strapped up in that same sling holding his arm secure in a fixed position across his chest. He’s got a plastic wrapped bundle shoved up underneath his supported elbow and he’s wearing one black leather work boot, the other, he presumes is clasped under his arm along with his other belongings. He’s still wearing the clothes that Rick leant him, unsurprising really considering some of his own had been cut from his unconscious body but the combination of sweats and boots look utterly ridiculous and he really has to try hard not to laugh at the image. Rick can’t help but think that despite Daryl’s injuries he looks good standing there. He doesn’t look awkward or nervous, he doesn’t even really look as though he’s in any pain even though Rick knows he must be. It has to be difficult to stand there with a battered and bruised body, off balance and using muscle groups that aren’t familiar with having to work alone. Still, Daryl makes it look effortless, like he’s just come out on his lunch break to grab a smoke. 

Rick pulls up to the curb alongside him and rolls down the window, grinning when Daryl turns, in recognition and his lips twitch into that little non-smile. He flicks the half smoked cigarette out onto the pavement and hitches the package under his arm slightly, pushing himself away from the pillar he’d been leaning against.

“You’re up on your feet?” Rick says, surprised. He was expecting Daryl to be in a wheelchair still with a nurse watching over him until his ride arrived. He definitely hadn’t imagined Daryl walking out of the hospital under his own steam, he shrugs one shoulder in response and Rick reaches out to relieve him of his cumbersome package of possessions that make walking on a crutch a little more awkward. 

“Nurse brought me down but I managed ta get rid o’her pretty quick,” Daryl grunts as he hands it over and takes a few surprisingly steady steps towards the car. 

Rick slings the bundle into the backseat then moves to open the passenger door for Daryl to pour himself inside. His hand reaches out to steady him without even thinking, it hangs in the air for a moment, never actually making contact because the second he leans forward to touch Daryl he remembers the way he had hardened as he lay in bed with Daryl on his mind. Anyway, he thinks, he seems to be doing a fairly decent job of getting himself into the car without any help, simply folding himself carefully then holding the crutch out to Rick’s still-outstretched hand. He takes it and stashes it gently along the back seat then climbs in the driver’s side, his long fingers flexing around the steering wheel as he glances over at Daryl beside him.

“Where to?” Rick asks, he knows Atlanta and the surrounding area pretty well by now but he’s also fairly certain that Daryl isn’t an inner city dweller. As he predicted, Daryl directs him out of town but not without stopping off at Rick’s favourite Chinese restaurant first to grab a take out, which, as promised Daryl pays for. Rick considers swinging by the liquor store to make good on his bet but seeing as Daryl is most likely still going to be on painkillers for a while decides that it can wait at least until Daryl can drink again. 

The place ends up being about a 40 minute drive from the hospital and they fill the trip with effortless chatter about where they’d grown up and the people they used to know. They talk about Kim’s, the run down old diner that served the best pancakes and homemade fudge cake and Daryl tells a story about one time that Merle got kicked out with a jug of milk thrown in his face for trying to feel up the waitress. Rick mentions the terrifying old timer who used to sit on his battered porch on the outskirts of town with a rifle braced across his lap that would always holler at them as they rode their bikes past his drive. Turns out the man they used to call Grisly-Joe was actually Daryl's now dead, Uncle Jess and they had been right to be scared of him. According to Daryl he was a mean and cantankerous old bastard that hated everyone and everything that wasn’t drink or two-dollar whores. Rick quickly decides that he loves Daryl’s dry sense of humor and the way his voice is coarse and rugged while still managing to be soft and warm. It washes over Rick like a balm and he’s wrapped up in Daryl as if this man sitting beside him is the only person in the world that matters. 

Daryl’s house turns out to be a dark wooden panelled cabin set deep in the woods, it’s old, Rick can see that clearly, but it’s well cared for. It’s got a large covered porch that looks  perfect for sitting back and relaxing with a beer, the surrounding woods are thick and lush and as they get out of the car, Rick can hear nothing but the birds and the sound of a nearby creek. It’s peaceful and Rick thinks it must be wonderful to live out here, no neighbours for miles, the sounds of cars completely obscured by the sound of nature. He can see why Daryl lives in a place like this. He realizes that he’s just been standing beside his car, taking everything in, the sounds, the smell, the beautiful rich colours that you can only really get down here in Georgia and Daryl is bracing himself against his side of the car just watching Rick drink it all up.

“S’not much,” Daryl shrugs when Rick finally turns back to him but Rick just smiles.

“It’s beautiful out here, Daryl,” Rick offers, moving around to grab the food and Daryl's stuff out from the back seat. He hand’s Daryl his crutch and follows behind him as he leads the way inside the house. 

“Had an aunt used ta live here, died a few years ago now. Never had any kids of her own so left this fer me. Pa never even told me ‘bout her so was a bit of a shock when some stiff in a suit came knocking at ma door tellin’ me she’d died n’ left me a place,” Daryl explains as he bends down and fishes out a key from behind a loose panel. “Been fixin ‘er up ever since I got her, needed a shittonne o’work lemme tell ya,” Daryl continues, throwing the door open and heading inside. 

“You do all the work yourself?” Rick asks, surprised. He wouldn’t know the first thing about fixing up a house if anything ever breaks or goes wrong at his place he calls the building manager and they send someone from the maintenance team over to fix it up for him.  

“Mhm,” Daryl nods “had ta call in a few favors ta get the new roof on but that’s about it.”

“How much land have you got?” Rick asks as they walk through to the kitchen. It’s light and airy, the wooden cupboards are painted in a calming shade of green that should look terrible but doesn’t. There’s a set of patio doors leading out to the back porch which Rick can see has what looks like a hand built brick grill just off to one side. The woods creep right up to Daryl's doorstep and Rick can imagine throwing the doors wide open and standing out back with his morning cup of coffee, just listening to the birds as they wake. The walls in the kitchen are clean white and it gives the place a soft, springtime feel to it. 

“Bout seventeen acres, got a creek runs through ‘bout ten or so out back. Real good fer huntin’ round here,” Daryl explains as he shuffles around the space, opening cupboards and drawers; fishing out plates and cutlery for them both. He grabs them both a can of soda and puts them on the table nodding to indicate Rick should sit. “Sorry can’t offer ya nothin stronger.”

“Soda’s fine, almost bought that bottle of Jack I owe you but figured I’d leave that for when you’re off your meds.” Daryl grunts in agreement as Rick starts dishing out the food, “How long have you lived here then?” 

“Bout four years now I reckon? Stayed in Merle’s old place fer a while, hated that tin can piece o’crap though. Felt like livin’ in a train car only more mess n I swear the place stunk like meth n’ piss no matter how much I cleaned it.” Daryl’s lips twist in disgust as he describes what sounds like a horrible place to live. No wonder he likes living here. Rick can’t see Daryl in a trailer, someone like him belongs out here in the woods, cradled in nature.  

They don’t talk much as they eat, Rick too busy enjoying the peaceful surroundings and uncomplicated silences and Daryl enjoying the food. Days of eating hospital cuisine have obviously taken their toll because Daryl eats as though someone is going to come along and steal the food right out from under him. It’s a little distracting the way he forgoes his fork every now and then, choosing instead to use his hands and then, oh god, Rick can’t even begin to tear his eyes away when Daryl licks his fingers clean. The soft sucking sounds and the little pop as each digit pulls back out of his mouth with spit-wet lips makes Rick completely lose his train of thought, total wipeout and he’s surprised his own mouth isn’t hanging open with a little trail of drool falling down onto his chin. 

“M’sorry,” Daryl says suddenly, Rick snaps back to attention and realizes that once again he’s been caught staring at Daryl's goddamn mouth. 

“No, it’s….it’s fine, sorry I zoned out,” Rick hurries to cover his own indiscretion and reaches for a sticky rib, picking it up with his own fingers and tearing into the meat. He resists the urge to lick himself clean, fearing his face might give him away if he does. 

Once the meal is over and everything's cleared away Rick insists on washing the dishes while Daryl watches from the kitchen table. He asks Rick if he wants to stay for a while, apparently there’s a Chuck Norris marathon on tv tonight and Rick agrees without even the slightest hesitation. After all, a choice between Daryl’s quick wit and easy company or his own empty apartment isn’t really a choice at all. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** Trigger warning for minor character death in this chapter **
> 
> Rick and Daryl's tentative friendship gets pushed to a new level. 
> 
> Please read the A/N for details on the trigger....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per the summary -Descriptions of domestic violence and resulting death in this chapter including the death of a child. 
> 
> It's not a pleasant subject of course but it happens in the real world even though it shouldn't and I wrote it because it's one of those scenarios that would have a very powerful emotional impact on even the most hardened police officer. 
> 
> You'll miss a rather important part of the Rickyl development if you skip this chapter altogether SO if you'd like to read the chapter with the incident removed just drop me an email and I'll happily send you a copy of the chapter with the gory bits cut out. You'll just be left with the emotional aftermath but knowing the basics of what has been omitted will still allow the chapter to make sense! 
> 
> You can either DM me on here or drop me an email at ellieyusuf@gmail.com

The few hours spent with Daryl were probably the best Rick had had in months, most likely since the last time Morgan managed to finally drag him out of his apartment to go and watch the Bulldogs play Georgia Tech. It was just so easy to spend time with Daryl, despite the fact that on paper they have nothing in common except the place they grew up, they seem to have settled into this subtle, uncomplicated friendship. Even when they aren’t saying anything it doesn’t feel strained or uncomfortable. Daryl is nothing like how Shane used to be, he doesn’t feel the need to fill a silence with a crude joke, his loud booming laughter or small talk about sport. Daryl enjoys just being present in the moment and Rick likes that about him. They don’t need to stand on ceremony, they just flow together like a steady stream winding its gentle path through the woods.

He’d stayed at Daryl’s place until after ten that night, they’d moved into the living room which was all dark wooden panels and soft leather sofas. There was a large grey rug on the floor that looked as though it’d seen better years and matching curtains hanging on the wide windows. One thing Rick noticed as he looked around was that there were no photographs, no happy faces smiling down on him from mounted frames. There was no decorative art work hanging on the walls, the closest thing to something personal were the odd bits of twisted wood that adorned a simple, handmade wooden bookcase. The pieces warped and convoluted, some, the dark brown of the forest floor and others were sun bleached and sea weathered. Fragments of antlers scattered across one or two surfaces positioned in such a way that they seemed to have a functional purpose and here and there Rick could see stones with beautiful markings and intriguing shapes. It’s as if Daryl had decorated the place by accident, simply picking up odd bits and pieces from the forest and bringing them home, magpie-like.

The place was fitting, Rick thought as he sank down into the cool leather sofa, draping himself slightly over the arm to give Daryl enough room to perch beside him. Daryl’s simplistic decorating skills spoke volumes about the type of man he is. Not flashy so he probably doesn’t earn a lot of money. Nothing romantic or feminised so chances are he’s not had a woman’s influence for a long time, if ever. The little snippets of nature indicate that Daryl is someone who belongs outside, someone who values and cherishes the woods that surround him and of course, the sculpturesque pieces of bone and antler speaks of someone who hunts out of practicality and not just for the thrill of the chase.

They’d watched tv and Rick had been happy to find he wasn’t the only one of the two of them that had a tendency to make comments on what they were watching. Occasionally Daryl would shift in his seat, careful not to disturb his injuries too much and making a low grumbling noise in his throat before scoffing at some unrealistic move that Chuck managed to pull out on one of the bad guys. Rick had, until that point, refrained from making any of his usual comments directed at the TV but soon relaxed enough to start yelling in its direction earning him little huffs of Daryl’s quiet laughter and the odd lopsided smile from the man beside him. He’d found himself reluctant to leave but it was late, Daryl was swallowing more medication and Rick had another early morning start at work. So he left with a box of leftover chinese and a promise from Daryl to keep in touch.

That was over a week ago now. Rick had been called in to cover extra shifts at the station, Abe had been taken off the rotation after coming down with a stomach virus and Rick had always been the one to pick up any extra work. It had served him well in the past, when he was lonely and struggling with being single in a city that felt both crowded and at the same time painfully empty. Now though, he wishes he wasn’t the one that Chief Greene came to when they were stuck for officers, not now that he has someone he wants to spend time with. They’d kept in contact of course, Daryl and himself, texting each other through the day; Rick kept up a steady stream of messages asking how Daryl was, whether he needed anything and telling him about issuing his 100th traffic ticket of the year and Daryl teasing him for being married to his job and taking far too much pleasure in giving people tickets. Rick just knows, with a soft flutter in his stomach as he slips the pad back into his pocket, that every one he issues from now on will make him think of Daryl.

It turns out Daryl does have people around that can help him out, Dale being one of them. When Rick had offered to bring some groceries around, despite his heaving work schedule Daryl had explained that Dale was coming by and driving him to the store, then off to his hospital appointment to assess his shoulder and possibly have the sling off. Rick felt both happy that Daryl had someone to help and also a little disappointed at not being able to be there for him like he wanted to. Still, he knows its for the best, he can’t be there for everything Daryl needs and he wouldn’t even try to be. Daryl comes across as a fiercely independent man and Rick has no intentions of devaluing his masculinity by coddling him like a child.

Rick and Morgan have been on shift for almost eight hours already when they get the call to attend another domestic dispute, dispatch warns them that the man is armed and has a few previous assault charges against him and as the name crackles over the radio Rick’s blood runs cold. He knows this man, Rick has brought him in on drugs offences in the past, he’s volatile, extremely dangerous and Rick is instantly on high alert. They arrive at the property and cautiously exit the car, weapons drawn and safeties off. Rick’s blood heats up and adrenalin courses viciously through his system as he carefully approaches the property, his eyes scanning around for any hidden dangers or junkie friends that might take them unawares. The area is clear and he bangs on the door with Morgan two steps behind him. He can hear the sounds of sirens in the distance, more officers coming to offer support he knows but they are far enough away for Rick to understand that Morgan and he will have to handle this one alone for the time being.

“Atlanta PD, open the door, sir,” Rick calls after rapping his knuckles hard against the cracking wood and taking a step back. No answer, he can hear shuffling inside and quiet sobs echoing through the house. “Open the door, Sir,” he repeats, louder this time and a woman cries out. He knows time is running out, he has no idea what’s happening behind the door but as the seconds tick by he knows he’s going to have to break it down and face whatever is inside head on. As he braces himself for the impact, he prays that the backup they’d called in would hurry up. He doesn’t want to head into an unknown situation with only one officer at his side but when the woman inside begins pleading loud enough to carry to Rick’s ears he knows his time is up. The door splinters easily under his body, swinging inwards, the hinges dangling uselessly now, wooden shards rain down and crackle under Rick’s heavy boots as he steps over them. They head in slowly, he can feel the heat from Morgan’s body as he keeps close, his gun aiming into each darkened corner over Rick’s shoulder, assessing quietly for any signs of a threat. The woman continues to whimper softly and Rick calls out again, warning the man that they are armed and will not hesitate to shoot unless he drops his weapon and hands himself over.

Rick turns the corner into the kitchen and immediately takes aim. A woman is on the floor cowering, tears running freely down her cheeks and staining the soft yellow of her shirt. She’s bruised and bleeding from a split above her eye, another across her cheek and she has a gun pointed right at her temple. The man looming over her peers at Rick out of the corner of his eye and Rick can see the blown wide pupils and bloodshot whites that scream of drug abuse. His lip is curled into a snarl around yellowing decayed teeth and his knuckles are white where they grip the firearm, finger already twitching against the cool black metal. Rick edges forward keeping his eyes on the man, gun trained, finger on the trigger and ready to fire. He tries to put his police training into practice, desperately trying to ground himself into the moment but for some reason the calm he normally experiences in times like this has abandoned him.

“Put the gun down and get on the floor,” Rick’s voice is cold, deadly and steady despite the way his body thrums with the fear and adrenalin he feels as he issues his order. The man lowers the gun half an inch and Rick’s breath leaves him in a relieved rush. He can hear Morgan fiddling with a pair of handcuffs behind him but he doesn’t turn. The man glances at Morgan and the glint of metal catches in the sunlight as it leaks in through a crack in the curtains.

Then, fast as lightning, the man raises his gun and pulls the trigger. The sound reverberates around the filthy, terracotta colored walls and throbs in Rick’s ears, temporarily robbing him of one of his senses. His own shot is less than half a second behind, a reflex reaction, but it’s already too late. Her body slumps down onto the floor, scarlet seeping through the pale yellow blouse; fanning out into her dirty blonde hair and staining it a dark, sickening brown. Brain matter and bone fragments smatter the kitchen counters and Rick’s heart stops. He feels vomit threatening to escape through his clenched teeth even as the beast of a man falls heavily to the floor, his own blood mingling across the slate tiled ground. Rick wants to stop it, to stem the flow of blood and stop it from mixing with the woman's’ own, it feels wrong for them to touch, this disgusting parasite’s tainted blood shouldn’t be anywhere near the already cooling puddle of innocence. It doesn’t matter what she might have done, no one deserves to be cut down, to be beaten, broken and shot like an animal in cold blood.

The man’s gun now lays spent and useless in the puddle of body fluids and gore that still seep steadily from the woman’s body. Rick hadn’t aimed for a kill shot, he’d fired into the man’s shoulder, the side in which he held the gun; a shot that would disarm him, take him down and incapacitate him enough for them to cuff him and take him in.

“Fucking whore, bastard kid wasn’t even mine,” the gunman gasps, blood trickling out behind his teeth as Morgan approaches him, speaking into his radio and calling for an ambulance even as he moves to cuff the man now on the floor and bleeding profusely. Morgan isn’t being gentle, he isn’t sparing the man any pain and Rick is glad of that. He’s furious, white hot rage pounds across the base of his skull. He’s sickened because at the bastards’ words, he looks down at the dead woman on the ground and he sees now the gentle swell of her belly and her protective hand smeared with blood where it’s still cradling her unborn child. Two souls lost in one shot. Whatever she did, she didn’t deserve this, not her, not her child.

He can’t breathe, his chest is closing in on itself as his eyes refuse to move away from the woman on the floor. Morgan is saying something to him, he knows, but it’s all whitenoise buried in the screaming rush of blood in his ears, the vicious twisting knot of his stomach. A strong hand clasps his shoulder from behind and he realises he’s still aiming his gun at the man on the ground where Morgan is clicking the cuffs shut and attempting to move the man away from the body still sprawled across the kitchen floor. Backup has finally arrived and Rick slowly lowers his gun, the gentle pressure on his shoulder is calming and brings him back to himself. He’s gasping, desperately reaching for air; trying to bring enough oxygen back to his body. He can hear the strained choking noises that sound like sobs as his breathing finally tries to right itself. He knows he’s in danger of hyperventilating, knows the tight painful noises he can hear are his own and the world spins on his axis as he tries desperately to regain control of his faculties. He turns on his heels and, like a coward, he heads for the door. He needs air, needs to flee from the metallic stench of blood and the stark peppery smell of gunpowder that has invaded his senses. His feet hit the grass and he drops to his knees, face wet with tears he didn’t know had fallen. He reaches his hand up and wipes at the moisture, closing his eyes as he does, but all he can see is her face, her hand curled around her belly, the blood in her hair. He reaches out again and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to grip tight enough to stop the blurring of his vision where the tears still fall. He can see his brothers spreading out across the lawn, can hear the wailing sirens that herald the arrival of the ambulance. Yet he doesn’t move, he can’t, not until he feels Morgan crouch beside him, a warm hand pressed tight against his thigh, soothing and calming him.

“C’mon Rick,” Morgan’s lowered tone cuts seamlessly through the white noise still rushing through his ears. Rick lifts his gaze and Morgan’s coal black eyes, filled with worry and sorrow, catch his own. They’re familiar, grounding, and Rick sees that his aren’t the only eyes that glisten with tears. “Back to the station, let’s get you home.” Morgan speaks softly and Rick lets himself be lifted from the ground by his partner's firm touch and bundled into the passenger side of the cruiser.

Chief Greene’s voice washes over Rick like a balm, like a warm caress that brings him back from the edge he’s been standing on as he sits opposite him in the debriefing room. The tape recorder between them has already been switched off, it’s done its job already, steadily keeping record of everything that happened in that sorrowful house. Hershel’s low calming tones always have a soothing effect, it’s why he makes a point of being there during the worst debriefs and Rick knows, with one quick glance to his partner sitting beside him that he’s not the only one on their team that feels this way.

“Richard, you performed your duties to the best of your abilities, no one would deny that and I am certainly not when I tell you that I’m taking you off active duty for a week,” Hershel smiles sadly as he speaks and Rick bows his head, nods. He knows the Chief is right, he can’t go back to work today, not tomorrow either. He needs time to process everything, to go over every move he could have, should have made. Rick leaves his badge and firearm at the desk with Tracey and he can’t stand the look of pity in her eyes as she takes them. Standard procedure, he shot a man and failed to save two lives, he’ll get them back once his leave is up and he’s done his mandatory counselling session. He grabs his plain clothes from his locker and heads to the showers; Lets the too-hot water wash over him while he stares blankly at the drops creeping down the tiled wall. He hasn’t felt like this since the first time he got called out to a gang dispute and arrived to find a dead boy lying in the gutter as a rookie so many years ago. The difference then was that he had Shane by his side, a huge, overwhelming presence. Someone to help him shake it off with reassuring words felt from the heart, “Ain’t on you brother, jus’ part of the job, Rick,” He’d say while curling a giant palm around Rick’s shoulder and amber eyes that knew him better than anyone would bore into his own blues and he’d see the truth of the words, the knowledge that it’d be ok.

Rick drives himself straight to the bar a few blocks down from his apartment and heads in this time, he orders the strongest drink he can, throwing it back without a second thought. Another. The bartender pities him too, knows Rick’s job, probably knows something went wrong but doesn’t ask; just keeps the drinks coming and when Rick’s eyes grow glassy and his face reddens he holds out his hand for Rick’s keys without saying a word. Another. He’s starting to feel the numbness seeping into his skin and pulling him out of the dark. His face is flushed with the alcohol burning through his veins and stripping the skin from his throat and he holds onto those little things, grounds himself with them. Another.

Rick realizes with a half formed, hazy thought that he doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to be alone right now, needs someone. Misses Shane. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone and peers at it with blurry eyes and brings up Daryl's messages, typing slowly so he doesn’t make a mistake.

_Tell me you’re not busy_

_Aint busy, u ok Rick?_

Rick breathes a heavy sigh of relief at Daryl’s reply, he rests his forehead on the cool wooden surface and stares at the amber liquid in his glass out of the corner of his eye. He mumbles to the bartender, asks him to call a cab and asks for a bottle of Jack to take away, he’ll settle his debt with Daryl tonight and hopefully he’ll wake tomorrow sore and hungover but with a clearer head and less guilt weighing him down.

_Can i come over? Need company._

_Sure man, aint doin nothin. Get over here._

Rick dozes in the cab, his head pressed against the cold glass window in the back seat, his bag cradled tight within his arms, so that when they finally pull into the long winding, tree lined drive making its way to Daryl's place his head feels clearer; he’s not so drunk as he was when he stepped out of the bar and he’s grateful for that. It wouldn’t be great for him to turn up at Daryl's house as drunk as he was. Still, it takes him a few fumbling attempts to wrestle with the folded bills in his pocket to pay for the cab and by the time he swings the door open, drops his bag to the ground and steps out, bottle of jack dangling from his fingers, Daryl is standing in the doorway. Rick stalls even as the cab pulls away behind him. Daryl is bracing himself against the wooden frame, one strong arm raised to shoulder height, propping himself up and easing the strain of his still bound leg. The other is finally free of it’s restrictive sling, having been replaced by a thick black brace that covers the joint, his upper arm and straps across his chest. It accentuates the bulging bicep muscle that peeks out beneath it and the incredible broad expanse of his chest. Rick suddenly wonders whether coming here in this state was really such a good idea. He blinks lazily as he tries to wrestle his thoughts away from Daryl’s body, as much of a welcome distraction as it is, now is definitely not the time.

“Rick?” Daryl calls out to him, taking a step over the threshold and out onto to the porch, his eyes narrowed, brow pinched. He looks worried and Rick suppresses a snort of laughter. He has no idea. “C’mon man, don’ make me hop over there n’ come get ya. Get yer ass in here n tell me what’s goin on,” Daryl calls out, his face still contorted into a scowl but his tongue peeks out like a flash and pulls the corner of his lip into his mouth for his teeth to gnaw on in that way that Rick knows means he’s nervous.

Rick takes a few slightly unsteady steps before finding his balance and with his arms swinging uncharacteristically by his sides, his stiff police stance that has become a part of him is long gone, left at the bar no doubt. He tries to smile as he eventually comes level with Daryl, now standing aside to grant him access, but he can’t quite manage to make his mouth work and he can feel his cheek tremble with the effort. Daryl’s good arm reaches out as Rick draws close and his hand comes to rest lightly across Rick’s stomach, a gentle reassuring pat of solidarity that’s fleeting and over before Rick is ready for it to be.

“Brought you a gift,” Rick says shyly, holding the bottle out and dipping his head at the way his voice sounds rough and broken. Daryl’s striking blue eyes hold his own for a moment, assessing him, trying to see into Rick’s soul and find out what’s wrong without having to ask. It makes Rick feel exposed but not uncomfortable. He wants Daryl to know him, the bad times as well as the good so he stares back letting Daryl see what he needs, the pain Rick feels, the failure.

“Alrigh’ c’mon,” Daryl nods towards the house and heads inside, using the walls as support in lieu of his crutch, obviously abandoned somewhere in the cabin. He walks them both straight to the kitchen and pulls a chair out for Rick to sit in, reaches into a cupboard and places two tumblers on the table. Rick unscrews the bottle in silence and pours them both a generous measure, swallowing his in one long gulp and instantly refilling his glass. It burns all the way down, warming his stomach and he feels the flush of heat starting in his chest and working its way up his throat and onto his cheeks.  

“Wanna talk about it?” Daryl whispers before sipping lightly at his own drink and keeping his eyes trained onto the light grain of the table. When Rick hesitates Daryl looks up at him, pinning him in place with those striking eyes once more. Daryl’s hand reaches out across the table and Rick wonders if he’s going to offer it for Rick to hold, but it stops in front of him and he picks at a groove in the wood with his thumbnail. Rick takes another swig of his drink and drops the glass heavily back down, takes a deep breath and watches as Daryl’s nail continues to pick at the grooves in the wood, listens to the soft snick, snick, snick it makes.

“I lost someone today,” Rick starts and Daryl’s nail pauses but he doesn’t look up. “Watched a woman get shot, point blank. I wasn’t fast enough, Daryl,” His voice cracks with the raw emotion that threatens to overwhelm him. He drains his glass, it’s Daryl who silently fills it again for him. “Wasn’t fast enough,” he says again, quieter this time, tears threatening to spill out as he looks up at Daryl’s face.

“Weren’t yer fault Rick, ya didn’t pull the trigger, ain’t on you, man,” Daryl’s hand moves to cover his, squeezes his knuckles; just for a moment before retreating back across the table. Rick thinks it’s a testament to how awful he feels right now that the touch doesn’t have any effect other than offering solace for him. “Ya hear me?” Daryl continues, voice harder now, “it ain’t on you, Rick.”

Rick swallows hard, blinks back the dampness he can feel behind his eyelids and takes another drink; nods with his eyes back on the table. He knows it’s not on him but still. “She was pregnant,” Rick says the words no louder than a whisper and Daryl's sharp intake of breath tells him everything he needs to know.

“I’m glad ya here,” Daryl finally whispers after what seems like hours of pregnant silence.

“Haven’t got anyone else,” Rick says his voice is still rough and thick, scratching his throat on the way out and he hopes that Daryl takes his confession for what it is, gratitude that Daryl is here for him, that they have this; whatever it is between them.

“I know.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick + alcohol + a very sexy redneck = .........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEK! Halfway point people and things are really beginning to heat up in Daryl and Rick's lil part of the world. 
> 
> I'm so SO happy that you guys are still enjoying this little story of mine and commenting to tell me all about it! 
> 
> Honestly the comments you guys are leaving for me are amazing and I promise I will have more time this week to reply to you all! 
> 
> \- Also, I'm not an advocate for getting wasted when you're having a bad day (actually, yeah I am but lets pretend that I'm a sensible person etc etc ) but it happens okay? and anyway, it leads to a good thing....
> 
>  
> 
> ENJOY!

Rick is wasted. 

He hasn’t been this drunk in well over a year possibly even longer, probably not since he’d slammed the divorce papers down on his coffee table. He should feel guilty that he’s turned up on Daryl’s doorstep and drank himself silly. He’s pretty sure he even cried a little but if Daryl is angry with him, if he think’s Rick’s taking advantage  he doesn’t say a word. He sits beside him offering soft spoken words of reassurance, little snippets of his life to lighten the mood to make Rick smile and laugh and asks about the more pleasant parts of his job. Like helping a woman deliver a baby in the back of her car on the roadside because the ambulance got caught in traffic, or the time he helped a little kid find his mom again after getting separated during the town fair one year. They’ve been sitting outside on the porch for more than an hour now, the stars overhead are out in full force and Rick had almost forgotten what the sky looked like when there wasn’t a lot of light pollution. It’s been so long since he spent any time out of the city lately. The sounds of the woods surrounding them are amplified in the dark and Rick can’t help but jump every now and then at the screech of an owl, even when the constant hum of crickets and  katydids turns to white noise and threatens to send him off to sleep. Daryl chuckles at him every single time and Rick is pretty sure he hears the words ‘city boy’ more than once. 

It takes him more than one attempt to lift himself off the chair when he’s ready to go take a piss and he has to throw out a steadying hand, catching the back of Daryl’s seat as he does before he waves off Daryl's look of concern and winds his way inside to the bathroom. He manages to only ricochet off one or two walls on the way in and Daryl is waiting for him in the hallway when he finally re-emerges. He can’t help but take a step closer, into Daryl’s path because his blue eyes are just too far away from over here and Rick can’t even concentrate on anything other than Daryl’s mouth, the way it lifts up in the corner, creating little ridges beside his beauty mark or the way it makes his eyes crinkle at the corners when he sees Rick swaying on the spot. God he’s gorgeous. 

“Easy, Rick, easy,” Daryl’s gravelly voice feels as warm and soothing as the wide palm that reaches out and comes to rest along the small of Rick’s back. The heat from Daryl’s hand scorches through Rick’s well fitted light blue button down and he shivers at the contact as he turns his head to look through bleary eyes at the man now standing much too close. Rick shakes his head in an attempt to pull the two Daryl’s into one solid figure but the action throws his center of balance and he wobbles on the spot. The hand gently touching his back slides across his skin and soon Rick is cradled against Daryl’s warm body, one strong arm wrapped around his hips, rough fingers brushing overheated and accidentally exposed skin where his shirt has slipped up a few inches. 

“Ain’t it supposed ta be you holdin’ me steady, officer friendly?” Daryl rumbles in a low chuckle right into Rick’s ear. The sound makes him feel a little like he’s melting into a warm, soapy bath at the end of a long day and he closes his eyes, sinking into the body now taking the majority of his weight. His head spins a little with his eyes closed but Daryl’s strong arm holding him tight against his side keeps him steady. 

“I am holding you shh...deady,” Rick’s tongue stumbles over the words as they slip out of his mouth, completely bypassing his brain. “Why d’ya call me that anyway?” Rick mumbles, turning his head and speaking the words into Daryl’s shoulder. He should probably straighten up, pull away and make his way back to the couch by himself. He should, he really should but Daryl is warm and strong and he smells really, really good. Daryl’s body shakes with a silent chuckle and Rick can feel warm breath skating across his skin. He smells like nicotine and the Jack Daniels they’ve been drinking. Or maybe the smell of the alcohol is coming from him? He doesn’t remember seeing Daryl have more than one drink after all. Still, the heady aroma makes Rick feel even more lightheaded as he breathes it in along with Daryl’s rich earthy scent. 

“Cos yer a cop n’....” Daryl begins but Rick’s brain seems to have taken leave of its duty to provide a decent filter and he cuts Daryl off mid sentence. 

“You smell  _ so-oh _ good, you know?” Rick stretches out the vowels as he leans in even closer, his nose practically brushing the skin along the edge of Daryl’s neck as he tries to fill his lungs full of Daryl’s now familiar and distinctive smell. 

“Yer drunk, Rick,” Daryl whispers as he makes a valiant attempt to gently push Rick back out of his personal space.  _ His _ words are perfectly formed, _ he _ isn’t stupid enough to drink too much on an empty stomach, to lose proper control of his legs and his damned tongue but Rick has had a monumentally shit day and right now, right in this moment, pressed against Daryl fucking Dixon with his beautiful eyes and his rough voice that makes Rick’s insides twist and clench; he really doesn’t care what he looks like. He doesn’t care that Daryl is probably going to tease him about being a lightweight or a handsy drunk. All he cares about right now is that they are here, together and it just feels right. 

“Yes,” Rick breathes and he’s not really sure how many questions he’s answering or even whether Daryl had even asked one. Yes to being here, yes to Daryl being his friend. Yes to having him so close, so warm, so beautiful. Yes to everything he’s thought about since he found Daryl again. Rick threads one unsteady arm underneath Daryl’s, reaching around to his opposite hip and carefully avoiding the crutch that he still has to use to keep his balance. His fingers wrap themselves in the hem of Daryl's shirt holding onto the worn fabric and he feels just how heated his friends flesh is as his knuckles brush the skin above Daryl’s waistband where they twist and pull on his shirt. He’s too gone to figure out which one of them shivers and he tries to test it out by letting the cotton go and spreading his hand out along Daryl’s back, the pads of his fingers brush lightly over the dips and ridges left by scar tissue and Daryl tenses. His hand comes up to Rick’s shoulder, gently peeling him away leaving a cold empty void of space between them. Rick knows the sound that escapes his throat at the sudden change in temperature sounds like a pathetic whimper but he still doesn’t care. He will. He’ll remember tomorrow and be mortified once the alcohol has vacated his system and he realises what a fool of himself he’s making right now. 

“Bed,” Daryl says forcefully. “Ya need ta sleep it off,” Daryl's voice is tight and suddenly colder than Rick has ever heard it as he grips Rick tight, steering him back through the house and towards Daryl’s spare bedroom. He hobbles awkwardly as he tries to keep Rick steady and wield his crutch at the same time. His walking cast thumps along the wooden floorboards and the sound is heavy and full of dejection as it thuds in Rick’s ears. He should say something, explain himself to this man he wants so badly, he knows he should but his mouth opens and closes like a fish exposed and dying on dry land. 

“Daryl,” Rick finally manages and he’s  _ almost  _ sure that it doesn’t actually sound as desperate as it does in his own ears. “I want….” He doesn’t get to finish saying what exactly it is he wants because Daryl hushes him loudly and pushes him down onto the bed. The room tilts sickeningly as Rick tries desperately to make sense of which way up the world is supposed to be. Daryl's face swims above him, splitting into two different versions. One face looks closed off and almost angry. The other, Rick thinks, looks hopeful and a little confused. Rick likes them both, wants to kiss both mouths and see how each face changes as he slides his tongue along those tight lips and taste the whiskey tinted heat within.

“Sleep it off, Rick,” Daryl says firmly as he drags a blanket over Rick’s sprawling body. It’s heavy and Rick sinks into it, curling over onto his side which seems to help with the dizziness but only serves to make him feel suddenly and overwhelmingly drowsy. He wraps himself up in Daryl’s scent and strokes the slightly scratchy fabric between his fingers as he cuddles up and lets his eyes close.  

“M’Sorry Daryl,” Rick mumbles into the bed, he’s not sure whether his words are heard or not or even whether Daryl is still in the room with him and he doesn’t have the capacity to spare a thought as to where Daryl will sleep tonight as Rick takes up almost the entire span of the bed, it doesn’t occur to him that Daryl has his own room to spend the night in. “You,” Rick says finally managing to finish his earlier sentence, disjointed now and completely out of context. The word is loud yet he’s pretty sure he’s the only one to hear it and that’s ok because the room is disappearing, slowly fading to black as sleep finally takes him and pushes him into dreams where, he can tell Daryl anything he likes and the answer will always be ‘yes’.

When Rick wakes up, the first thing he notices is that his head feels as though someone has crept in during the night and taken a white hot poker to the back of his skull. He groans into the mattress beneath him and tries to bury his face in the pillows in an attempt to escape the too-bright morning sunshine that taunts him as it beams through the windows and tries to burn his already sensitive retinas. His mouth tastes like the dregs of a sewer after a hard rain but is as dry as the Atacama desert, his tongue sticks harshly to the roof of his mouth and he just knows he must look like an absolute mess. Turning over onto his side and trying desperately to ignore the aches that come with lying in the same position for hours, he notices a glass of water and what looks like two aspirin on the bedside table. Thank God for Daryl, he thinks, as he gulps it down and swallows the pills, willing them to work faster than they ever have before. He sits on the edge of the bed for a moment while his brain stops trying to thump a staccato around the inside of his skull and it’s then he realizes he doesn’t hear any sound from inside the house. No shuffling feet, no low sounds coming from the TV or the sounds of cooking. Complete silence. The first thing he does when he stands is make his way to the bathroom to relieve the ache in his bladder, steals a bead of toothpaste and rubs it over his teeth and gums with his finger, swilling the awful hangover taste from his mouth, he glances at himself in the mirror and grimaces. His eyes are red and puffy and his hair is plastered to his face, flat on one side and a complete nest, wild and sticking out at odd angles. He runs his hands under the water and pulls them through his hair, desperately trying to make it look more presentable before heading further into the house.  

There’s still no sign of Daryl, not in the living room, not in the kitchen and no sign of him through the windows on the porch. Puzzled, Rick heads back into the kitchen, there’s fresh coffee in a pot on the side and the faint smell of cigarette smoke still lingers around the back doors, Daryl can’t be far away. Rick sees no sign of breakfast and so decides to repay a little of Daryl’s kindness from last night and hunts in the fridge, pulling out eggs, bacon and some sliced bread. Odd, he’s never known anyone to keep bread in the fridge before. He notices little baggies on the bottom shelf and picks one up, it’s labelled in an untidy scrawl, Rabbit. There’s three more on the same shelf another rabbit, one marked deer and the other one squirrel. He’s never tried rabbit or squirrel before and thinks he’ll have to persuade Daryl to cook it for him sometime. 

It’s not long before everything is sizzling away in the pan and he hears the creak of the floorboards behind him. He turns slowly, completely embarrassed by his behaviour last night and grins sheepishly at Daryl standing in the doorway, once again resting nonchalantly against the frame. 

“Hope you don’t mind me making breakfast, didn’t know if you’d had any already.” Rick says, turning back to the stove and pushing the bacon around a little more. “Sorry about last night,” He adds quietly glancing back over his shoulder.

“S’alright, sounded like ya needed a good blow out, get it off yer chest,” Daryl says finally, moving into the room quietly and coming to stand beside Rick at the stove, hip cocked against the counter and arms folded as much as he can across his chest, watching Rick push the food around the pan and he can  _ feel  _ Daryl laughing beside him. His head gives a brutal throb and he rubs at it with his spare hand. Daryl moves and comes to stand behind him and Rick pauses, spatula hovering inches from the pan as Daryl's hand reaches around him and fingers close around his own, pulling the utensil from his grip. Daryl nudges him with his good shoulder and Rick can feel his breath against the side of his face when he speaks.

“Sit yer ass down,” he chuckles, nudging Rick out of the way again and just for a moment, catches Rick’s eye and he suddenly remembers standing this close to Daryl last night, pushing his hand underneath Daryl’s shirt and, _ oh fuck _ , smelling him.  _ Jesus _ . His cheeks burn and as much as he wants to stay close to Daryl, in this moment that feels incredibly domestic he moves away, curving his body away from where Daryl is now focusing his attention on the half cooked breakfast and sits himself down on the opposite side of the table so he can watch as Daryl continues to cook. 

“Watcha gonna do then?” Daryl asks, his back still facing Rick. 

“What do you mean?” Rick asks, confused and cheeks still burning slightly. He leans over the table, elbows resting on it and plants his face in his hands. Partly to hide his embarrassment over his behaviour and his almost slip last night and partly to help tame the incessant throbbing that still hasn’t settled. 

“Said last night yer Chief took ya off shift fer a week. Thought ‘bout what ya gonna do?” Daryl leans up and reaches into a cupboard above his head, keeping himself steady by bracing his hips against the stove and pulls down two plates setting them on the side. 

“Ugh, I hadn’t really thought about it to be honest,” Rick considers his options, well it’s not like he has many, stick around in the apartment; catch up on some chores. God his life is boring. “Probably just end up vegging on the sofa all week, I’m sure there’s some rubbish daytime tv I can shout at.” That makes Daryl laugh, and Rick smiles along with him. Daryl slips the breakfast onto each plate, places them one by one on the table, then heads back to grab some cutlery before sitting himself down opposite Rick and starts tucking in. 

“Got a few jobs round here ya can help out with if ya want something ta keep ya busy,” Daryl says after a few mouthfuls of food, like he’s been chewing the idea over in his head for a while before deciding to offer. 

“Ah, I see how it is,” Rick laughs, pointing his fork at Daryl with a look of mock suspicion on his face, “using the sad lonely officer to do your handy work, hey? Next thing I know you’ll be playing the injured card.”

“Pft!” Daryl snorts and Rick loves that sound. “Think of it as payback fer turning up on my porch drunk of yer ass,” Daryl waves his own fork right back at Rick while he speaks. 

“Alright, alright I guess I deserve that one,” Rick chuckles again, marvelling at how easy this is, even after last night. “What needs doing anyway?”

“Got some panels out back need replacing, woodshed needs a new lick a’paint n I got a ton o’ wood needs choppin ‘fore I run out. Ain’t like imma be able to get round ta doin’ that lot before I get this off,” he nods towards the brace. He’s right, even when he does finally get it off he’s still going to need some physical therapy to help him get back to full use again and there’s no way he’ll be able to chop logs on a bum leg either. 

“Sure you won’t get sick of me hanging around?” Rick asks and tries to make it sound nonchalant but think’s he hasn’t quite managed it. Especially when Daryl’s head snaps up and his face looks thoughtful for a moment before answering. 

“I’ll be straight with ya, officer friendly,” Daryl begins and he’s so serious that Rick is suddenly a little worried about what he’s about to say. He sets his knife and fork down on the table before continuing. “Seems ta me like yer havin’ a rough time. Work’s tough and ya ain’t really got no one ta fall back on. Ya need ta take yer mind off yer job fer a bit n’ I reckon ya could use a little company while ya do it. Ain’t no good shuttin’ yerself away in that apartment o’yers overthinkin’ things,” Rick says nothing, just stares openly at this man who’s just laid his life out before him, read him like a book and pinpointed exactly what he needs. “Sides, I ain’t gonna be goin’ back ta the garage fer a while n’ ain’t no one round ta keep me company neither. Plus, kinda like havin’ yer around,” Daryl finishes quietly, hastily tucking back into his breakfast with a light pink dusting across his cheeks. Rick sits back in the chair and considers what Daryl has just said. He likes having Rick around, enjoys his company. 

“Then I suppose you’ve got yourself a handyman for a week,” Rick smirks at him, happiness washing over him in waves and pushing his hangover to the side, or maybe that’s the greasy breakfast? Who knows, either way Rick’s desolate mood from yesterday, that feeling of failure and desperation completely evaporated, chased away with good food, better company and the quiet hum of the woods around him. 

They finish their meal not long after, Rick cleans the plates away insisting Daryl stay sitting down and makes them both another cup of coffee. They head out onto the porch and sit on a pair of wooden chairs that look as though they’ve been hewn from the trees surrounding them and Rick realises as he fingers a twisted knot beneath his palm that they probably have. He turns in his chair to face Daryl who’s slouching low with his knees spread wide, a burning cigarette in one hand and balancing his coffee on the arm of the chair with his other. 

“Daryl?” Rick says suddenly, watching avidly as Daryl lifts the cigarette up to his lips and is mesmerized by just how sharp his cheekbones look as he sucks the smoke into his lungs.

“Mhm?” Daryl grunts, glancing at Rick out of the corner of his eye rather than turning to face him.

“Did you make these?” He runs his hands up and down the arms appreciatively, feeling just how smooth they are and noticing the tiny differences in each side. Daryl quirks an eyebrow up and nods once. 

“And that too?” He nods towards the grill he’d spotted the first time he came here. 

“Uh huh,” Daryl nods again, he brings the cigarette back up but gets distracted by tearing at the flesh on the edge of his nail bed. 

“Wow, you’re really good with your hands then?” Rick almost cringes as the words come out because he instantly hears the double meaning. “Where’d you learn this stuff?” He quickly adds, meaning everything, the woodwork, fixing up the house, the mechanics.  

“Pa got me started soon as I could chop a branch down, back when he had good days. Taught me how ta shoot ma first bow, how ta hunt. Merle taught me a lot more ‘fore he got himself inta drugs. Merle always was good wi’ wood when he weren’t high as a kite. Taught me how ta fix up his truck too. Well, he used ta work on it n’ I used ta watch, keep outta pa’s way. Till Merle said I was old enough not ta sit on my ass no more,” Daryl chuckles softly at the memory. Rick remembers Merle being a lot older than Daryl and can just picture him all scrawny limbs and bright blue eyes sitting on the dirt covered drive while Merle cussed from underneath the truck.

“And the house?” Rick nods back towards the building once more.

“Jus sorta picked it up really. Couple a’things wern’t right when i got here n’ figured i’d give it a go fixing it ‘fore callin’ someone in. Jus’ kinda went from there really,” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal but Rick can’t hardly fix the window in his bathroom that sticks every time winter comes around. He tells Daryl this and is gratified to hear that lovely huff of a laugh that never fails to put a smile on his face. He leans his head back against the chair and closes his eyes. The sunlight filters through the trees in front of them and dappled patches of light to flicker across his eyelids as the breeze causes the branches to sway gently. He can hear the creek far off in the distance, the birds trilling songs that echo through the spaces and even the odd squirrel chattering in annoyance somewhere to his right. As he relaxes, more so than he’s had a chance to do in a long time he realizes that even the air feels different out here. It smells clean, pure, completely untouched by exhaust fumes. He can almost taste the moisture from the earth and can smell the soft hints of wildflowers that grow in little patches around the porch. He always pegged himself as a city boy, even as a kid he dreamt of moving to the city and working for the police but as he sits here out in the open with the forest floor mere feet away he feels peaceful and wonders why he never considered a life like this for himself.

“You ever think about selling up and moving to the city?” Rick asks. 

“Nah, ain’t fer me. Never was one fer big crowds. S’peaceful here. Ain’t no rules ‘cept nature's own,” Daryl whispers, keeping his voice low. “What about you? Why’d ya move ta the city?”

Rick considers it for a moment, it’s easy to forget when faced with Daryl’s life exactly what he saw in the busy streets of Atlanta with his tiny apartment, neighbours he only ever says good morning too and the chinese take out that knows him by name and has his order ready before he even tells them what he wants. “Honestly?” Rick starts thoughtfully, “I don’t know.” 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick reflects a little more on his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I should have updated this yesterday but I spent the majority of the day in bed being a little poorly and sleeping off my night shifts. By the time I realised I was late in posting, it was late and I couldn't drag my arse downstairs. 
> 
> We are FINALLY finally getting some progress on the relationship side of this story! The UST is about to become RST at last, there's just one little bit left to go and I hope you all don't hate me for dragging it out just one final time. Sorry *grimace* 
> 
> Slow burns are hard to read piece by piece I know and for that I'm eternally grateful for everyone who's still following the updates as they come out. 
> 
> I'm also eternally grateful for Tweedo for picking this story out and beta'ing for me with her whipping, nagging and constant support and encouragement. Another awesome thing about her is, she's taking the time to read this as I post it even though she's read it once already! 
> 
> 300 KUDOS!! Brilliant you lot are :D 
> 
> Also for any of you in the HP fandom, I'm working on my second Drarry fic!!

When Rick was fresh out of the Academy, he got a call out to a carpentry shop. The man had reported a break in, someone had trashed the workshop and taken all his tools. The man had, understandably been distraught. He’d commissioned some of the unique tools himself, worked on them for years in order to get the design just right. He’d cried, Rick remembered, cried like he’d lost someone close to him and he recalls being slightly taken aback. It’s just not something you come across everyday a big guy going to pieces over a few hunks of metal, livelihood or no. Shane had slapped the man on the back in that friendly jock way he usually did and told him that he’d get back on his feet again. His shoulders had slumped under the weight of Shane’s broad palm and his face fell.

“Ain’t got the money to start over, insurance only covers the standard tools and It’s gonna take years for me to get enough trade to afford to remake everything I lost.” The man had explained with pained, expressive hazel coloured eyes as Rick moved to sit beside him on the workbench while Shane went back out to write the report and take some photos of the damage done. Rick had asked the guy, in an attempt to calm him, why he’d chosen carpentry as his profession, it sounded to him that it took a lot of effort with very little monetary gain and, being young and filled with hopes and dreams stretching out the long years before him, he simply didn’t understand why anyone would work so hard for so little.

“It ain’t about the money, Officer,” the guy explained, “I tried working a regular job, used ta work in the courthouse, pushing paperwork you know? Sortin’ mail, orderin’ supplies n’ starin at a computer screen all day. Before that I worked the tills down at Krogers but man I was dyin’ inside. Just gettin up fer work everyday, no thanks, no joy right? So I wake up one day and I’m driving to work and I get in a car wreck, everyone was ok, I mean I busted up my face a little,” He had waved a hand towards some scarring on his face before carrying on. “So I’m sittin there in the hospital bed, stitches hanging out my face and I figured I had a close call right? Was driving to a job every day that I hated, with people I didn’t like, and I thought to myself: is doing a job I can’t stand really what I wanna  do for the rest of my life?” Rick had nodded, feeling sympathetic for anyone stuck in a job they hated, as a new officer he was still riding the high that came with police work, the adrenaline rush, feeling invincible, like the whole world is yours to explore.

“So anyway, I had some time off to get fixed up and a cousin of mine came over from Alabama for a while, he used ta make things, whittling you know? I dunno he was like one of them nervous people, like when they get all worked up in their heads right? So he’d whittle to set himself right. Anyways, he got me started with it and I dunno just sorta went from there really. I started making stuff with my hands, just little things to start out with then it kinda got bigger and bigger. I left my shitty job, set up a business doin’ little bits of wood work fer the people I knew and next thing I got my own shop and I’m building stuff for a livin.” His teary eyes had slowly become brighter and brighter as he spoke and Rick remembers feeling the pure joy and pride for his work rolling off the man.

“So’s my point is Officer, reason I still do it, even though I ain’t earnin a fortune here is that working with my hands gives me a sense of peace I never had before. When I get the lathe in my hands, a solid run of timbre laid out before me, I forget all the shitty things that happen in life, the bills, taxes what I gotta feed the kids fer dinner that night, why the ol’ lady’s mad at me this time. It all just, disappears and there’s only me n’ the wood n’ whatever imma make.” Rick had sat quietly for a long time while the man had wiped clear the tears that were beginning to dry across his cheeks.

At the time, Rick found it a lovely, wholesome story. One that made him feel warmth towards a person who had quite obviously managed to turn his life around and make the best of out a bad lot. But he hadn’t really, truly understood exactly what he had meant until he’d spent a few days away from the city, out in the woods with nothing but time, peace, great company and of course, good old fashioned labor. In fact, the memory had only come back to him now, so many years later as he sits half perched on an old tree stump with sweat pouring over his bare shoulders, an axe lying heavily between his feet while the Georgia sun beats down on him through the tree branches. He finds, as he sits and listens to the woods around him and the faint sounds of Daryl moving around inside the house, that for the first time in a few years at least, his mind is completely clear. His muscles ache, his back twinges and underneath the thick gloves Daryl lent him he has the beginnings of blisters across his palms and along his fingers but despite all that, he still finds he hasn’t felt this relaxed in a long time.

“See yer slackin off again then?” Daryl’s gritty voice has become such a regular presence in the last few days that Rick doesn’t even jump when he hears it. One thing he’s learnt in the four days he’s been hiding away out here is that Daryl moves almost silently, even with his leg still covered in a brace. Rick stays exactly where he is, with his face turned up towards the sun and his eyes closed but his face splits into a wide grin at Daryl’s teasing tone and he stifles a chuckle under his breath, his only tell being the slight shake of his shoulders.

“Ya hearin me Grimes?” Daryl calls again and Rick does turn around then and his breath catches in his throat. Despite the fact that by now, he really should be desensitized to Daryl, the sight of him leaning heavily on the door frame, cigarette dangling from his finger tips with his hair wet and swept back from his face as if he’s just stepped out from the shower and that half smile across his mouth makes Rick’s insides squirm and his face flush. His only saving grace is that he’s been out in the sun for most of the morning and he can blame the rosy tint to his cheeks on the heat of the day.

“Yeah, yeah, Dixon, I hear you hollering at me like you’re my old lady,” he throws back bending down to pick up his shirt that he’d stripped off and chucked unceremoniously on a low hanging branch. He shakes the dust and debris off it as he heads over to the porch and sits down heavily on the steps at Daryl’s feet. Rick stretches out the kinks he’s managed to give himself as he hears soft footsteps behind him. After a moment or two of grunting and muttered cursing Daryl gingerly lowers himself onto the step by his side. Rick learnt really quick that Daryl hates having to be helped and will only allow him to offer the bare minimum of assistance. As much as it pains him to leave Daryl to it, to watch the way his eyes tighten and his fists clench in pain the alternative is to throw himself at the mercy of a very grumpy, very sharp tongued redneck.

As soon as Daryl is settled beside him, their sides touching from hip to shoulder as has become standard now, Daryl reaches across his body and holds out his half finished smoke for Rick to take. It’s another little routine they’ve settled into in the short time he’s been here. Daryl will offer Rick a few drags on his smoke, Rick never refuses but always stops at one draw, coughing lightly before handing it back and ignoring the smug look that flashes across Daryl's face as the nicotine burns his throat and he tries hard not to choke.

“Thought we could take a drive into town, go pick up your bike today if you’re up for it?” Rick asks with a quick glance at Daryl out of the corner of his eye. Daryl shifts beside him and Rick is suddenly very conscious of the fact that he’s still shirtless, shirtless and sweaty with flecks of bark and dust covering his skin. He nudges Daryl gently, so as not to hurt his still healing shoulder and turns to find the man’s lip slipping in and out between his teeth and blue eyes that Rick is fairly sure were glancing over his bare navel, flick nervously to his face before falling to the hand hanging limp between his knees and the smoke that slowly curls through the air with the breeze.

“Daryl?” Rick prompts with another suppressed chuckle and soft nudge before leaning backwards until his upper body is resting on his palms, fingers pressing deep into the porch and elbows locking. He stretches his legs out and rotates his ankles kicking up a small dust cloud as they move. “I need to swing by the apartment anyway, grab some more clothes, check the machine for messages, pick up the mail.” Daryl nods along, not offering comment just facing out into the woods and smoking. “Grab some lunch maybe?” _Like a date_ , he wants to add, a date where I get to hold your hand across the table and kiss you afterwards.

“Mhm, be good ta swing by the garage and make sure Dale ain’t run it into the ground while I been takin so much time off.” Daryl finally says before flicking his almost finished cigarette off into the rock strewn path to their left. He twists round in place and huffs audibly, eyes locking with Rick’s own and filled with a weird sort of determination. Rick pushes himself back up, not to full sitting, not so they’re pressed against one another again but just enough so that Daryl doesn’t have to strain to see him. “Might havta gimme a hand gettin’ my _crippled ass_ off this porch.” He says it with such an adorable grimace on his face and so much sarcasm in his voice that Rick can’t help but laugh as he pushes himself to his feet and moves around to stand beside Daryl’s uninjured leg.

He hasn’t really had to help Daryl to get around much and as he looks down at his shadow that falls across the man below him his eyes flicker across Daryl's shoulders, firm and contoured with muscles made from hard work rather than hours spent at the gym. They follow the line of Daryl's bare arms, a light sheen of sweat clinging to dark blonde hair that starts just below his elbows and runs down across the chest that Rick already knows is well defined, yet still soft and covered in sparse patches of darker hair. He kneels down and braces himself on one knee and one foot, wrapping an arm around Daryl’s torso and holding him close as he starts to help tug him to his feet. It’s an awkward maneuver, one that would no doubt go a lot smoother with practice but it gets the job done. He holds Daryl close to his own body under the pretence of giving him time to find his center of balance, that is, until Daryl’s uninjured arm snakes around his waist and makes his heart stutter for a beat or two.

Warm fingertips lead an advancing line across Rick’s already heated skin, they feel both rough and incredibly smooth all at once, it’s a light, barely there touch of skin followed by a firmer drag of a palm and it feels nothing _like_ the grasp of a man trying to right himself or hold himself steady. It feels like a lovers touch and Rick is suddenly, overwhelmingly, fuck _frighteningly_ aroused at the contact. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to release the hold he has on this one moment. Then Daryl’s head turns towards his just a fraction, beautiful washed denim coloured iris’ glancing at him through blonde eyelashes and his brain is suddenly loud and screaming within the confines of his skull, drowning him in white noise that sounds like _kiss me, please god just fucking kiss me._ One stunted, thudding heartbeat later, Daryl’s fingers twitch against his skin and with a soft, nervous huff of breath he’s righting himself and pulling away, leaving Rick feeling suddenly cold and bereft.

Rick looks away, back towards the house, his hands curled into fists at his sides in an attempt to stop himself from just reaching out and pulling Daryl back, grabbing him and holding him close, breathing him in and finally, _finally_ pressing their lips together. If he looks at Daryl now he’ll be laid bare, his desperate want seeping into each coloured strand surrounding his no doubt dilated pupils, so he clears his throat, looks down at the wood panelled floor beneath them and takes a small step back.

“I uh, need to grab a quick shower,” Rick says quietly stepping around Daryl and reaching for his shirt. “You need any help getting ready?”

Daryl glances over himself then shrugs his good shoulder slightly, chewing his lip between his teeth in that way that makes Rick want to run his thumb over the abused skin and coax him to stop.

“Nah s’alright, s’long as I look ok?” Daryl asks quietly. He’s wearing a dark navy t-shirt and loose black slacks that have enough give to be pulled up and tucked into the top of his brace and the other foot encased in a fairly worn work boot. Even dressed in the most basic, unassuming outfit he looks good and it’s not like they’re headed out to some swanky restaurant anyway.

“Look good to me,” Rick throws behind him as he heads back inside the house, the sound of Daryl’s snort of amusement following him in makes a wide grin of satisfaction split across his face.

~*~

“How come none of your guys never came to visit you when you were in the hospital?” Rick asks when they’re about three blocks away from the garage, Daryl’s bike loaded on the back of the truck after he’d insisted on giving it a once over to check for damage.Since leaving the compound though, Daryl had been quieter than usual and Rick can feel the tension thickening as he drives the truck with the radio turned on low and the windows rolled right down.

“Pft!” Daryl snorts and Rick glances at him quickly before focusing on the road once more, noting the slight uplift to his lips. “Mighta told them I’d fire their asses if I saw any one o’them up there.” He says it so seriously that Rick can’t help laughing and out of the corner of his eye he can see the soft shaking of Daryl’s shoulders as he chuckles quietly under his breath.

The guys at the garage are clearly pleased to see Daryl back up on his feet again, he’s greeted with catcalling, friendly back slapping and a hefty share of teasing about slacking off work which he shrugs off with a low chuckle, an order for them all to get back to work and a quick flick of the bird. Rick hangs back waving Daryl on, not wanting to intrude on the reunion, no doubt Daryl has business to discuss and Rick is more than happy to stand by the truck and wait. After a moment or two of watching Daryl interacting with the people he works with, Rick remembers that he hasn’t been in contact with Carol or Morgan for a few days so he takes out his phone, switches it on and fires off a few text messages just letting them both know he’s ok.

While Rick waits for their replies, he watches Daryl making the rounds before heading into the reception area where an older looking man draws him into a brief hug then pulls back, keeping Daryl at arms length and giving him a thorough once over. Rick thinks that this might be Dale, the man Daryl has often spoken about, near retirement age, questionable taste in clothing and someone Daryl is obviously very close to. The man glances in Rick’s direction quickly, offering him a friendly smile then turns back to Daryl, his mouth moving and eyes flicking rapidly between the two of them. Daryl shakes his head then looks down at his feet and Rick can see the flush that creeps up underneath those downcast eyes and the way Dale’s smile falters for a moment before his head dips in an attempt to catch Daryl’s gaze with his own. More words and a comforting hand on a shoulder and Daryl finally looks back up. Rick wonders what they’re talking about to make Daryl act like that, he looks uncomfortable, almost like a child who’s made a mistake and disappointed his parents. Dale looks out to Rick once more and Daryl turns his head to glance his way for a moment too before offering Dale a lopsided smile and a sharp nod of his head. Dale’s smile widens across his face as he pulls Daryl into another embrace, gently patting him on the back then turning away and reaching for a stack of paperwork piled up on the desk.

“All sorted?” Rick asks when Daryl finally hobbles his way back to the truck with a folder clutched tight under one arm and a small frown across his brow.

Daryl humfs with a little snort of disbelief as he grabs the door handle and pulls it open wide enough for him to haltingly climb in. “Swear those assholes only do any real work when I’m there lookin over their shoulder.” Daryl's face is pinched and though he’s grumbling Rick can hear from his tone that he’s not really mad, there’s an undertone of affection hidden somewhere in there.

They’re a few minutes into the drive over to Rick’s apartment when his curiosity gets the better of him and he can’t keep the questions to himself any longer. “That guy you were talking to in the office, was that Dale then?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Good guy, done a lot fer me.” Daryl says as he fiddles with a loose thread dangling from the edge of his seat. Rick says nothing, knowing that Daryl will most likely carry on speaking if he remains quiet, he’s been learning all of his little quirks over the few days they’ve spent together and knows by now that Daryl offers insight into his life in little snippets. He barely keeps the smug smile off his face when Daryl adds: “Spent weeks lookin fer work when I first moved out this way, had a few odd jobs here n there, helpin out down on one o’them construction sites fer a while, haulin sheet metal mostly. Even went n’ spent a week down on the landfill site across town till I couldn’t stand it no more.”

“And then you found Dale, right?” Rick asks with a grin, glancing over and finding that Daryl is no longer tense and upright in the seat but is now slouching low with one leg bent and the one in the brace stretched out into the footwell. His good arm is resting against the open window and his fingers flex like he’s playing with the wind as it rushes past.

“Nah, Dale found me really. Went out fer a ride one weekend, just checkin’ out some o’ them country roads, city were too busy fer me back then. Was so used ta living out in the middle o’nowhere, only Merle n’ Pa fer company, jus’ needed ta get out fer a while. So there I am riding down some o’them backroads n the alternator goes. Didn’t have no tools wi’ me o’course so I had to push the damn thing back home. Got about two miles before this guy pulls over, says he owns a garage n offers ta haul the piece of shit there fer me so’s he can take a look at it.” Daryl takes a moment to search in his pocket before pulling out his pack of smokes and turning to Rick says, “You mind?”

“Hey, it’s your truck,” Rick says with a shrug and a smile.

Daryl awkwardly lights his smoke and says nothing for a while, just concentrates on sucking the nicotine into his lungs and breathing out smoke rings towards the open window where they’re quickly swept away with the rushing wind. “So when he found out I could fix it m’self n I was handy round a car engine too he offered me the job. Weren’t long fore he was lookin ta retire n hand over the business. Figure he saw me as a kind of, what you call them things?”

“Like an apprentice?” Rick offers and Daryl shakes his head a little frowning again as he thinks of the right word.

“Protege, you know? Took me under his wing n’ taught me everythin I didn’ already know. Ain’t never had a day off n always put in the hours, fer some o’ them guys it’ sjust a job you know? Turn up, do the work, clock out n’ pick up the paycheck come the end of the month. But fer me it was doin’ somethin’ I loved, somethin’ I was finally good at.” Daryl flicks the buildup of ash out of the window, a few flakes blow back into the car, landing on his dark slacks and instead of brushing them off, he gently pushes his thumb into them, smearing them into the fabric. Rick swings the truck onto the block where his nondescript apartment block stands grey and looming before them and he can honestly say he’s not even remotely excited or comforted by being back here. He sighs heavily as he pulls into the parking lot and parks up right into his own empty parking space, letting the engine idle for a while before turning in his seat to face the man beside him.

“I’ll only be a second, unless you wanna come up?” Rick asks but Daryl just holds up the cigarette still smoking between his fingers and shakes his head.

“M’good, here ain’t sure I can manage all them steps anyway.” He nods down towards his leg with a teasing smirk, “Bein’ all busted up n shit.”

Rick chuckles softly, then, like an unstoppable force, the words just spilling from his lips without any sort of thought for his own embarrassment, he says “I reckon you could do anything you wanted to Daryl, if you put your mind to it,” and he’s momentarily horrified by the heat that rises in his cheeks as Daryl turns to face him, his blue eyes wide, lips slightly parted and a look of mild disbelief across his face and he looks as if he’s about to argue when Rick shakes his head to stop him. “You could, everything that’s happened in your life, you’ve worked so hard for everything you have and you’re still so...well, yeah,” Rick stammers over the words because Daryl’s eyes are just so goddamn beautiful this close up and it’s like he’s never heard words like this before and Rick just wants to take him in his arms and tell him over and over just how amazing he is. “Sorry, look I won’t be long. You’ll be ok here?” His cheeks really are on fire now as he turns away to hide the blush, pushes the door open and climbs out. He closes the door and leans in to the open window slightly and with a desire to quickly change the subject he adds  “Think about where you wanna go to eat while I’m gone?”

“Mhm,” Daryl nods, smoothing out his face into a more neutral expression once more, his own cheeks rosy pink from Rick’s candid words. Rick smiles at him and makes to head into the building but Daryl calls out to him before he gets too far and he turns on his heels to find Daryl chewing on his bottom lip once more.

“You know, ya ain’t so bad yerself, officer friendly.” Daryl's words are softly spoken, his fingers fiddle with the butt of his smoke nervously and his blue eyes watch Rick’s face through the soft fan of blonde lashes and Rick feels like, in that moment, those few words hold more meaning than if Daryl had run off a list of compliments.

For the first time in longer than he really even cares to consider, Rick takes the stairs to his door two at a time with a giant smile on his face that not even stepping into his shitty apartment, out of breath and sweating, can erase.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl have THE talk!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert smoochie noises*
> 
>  
> 
> s'all imma say.

Rick toyed with the idea of taking Daryl to the Chinese buffet he’d visited with some of the guys from work a few months ago, but in the end, the sunshine and the draw of the outdoors won him over and they ended up buying meatball subs and drinking soda straight from the can on a park bench on the outskirts of town. The sun was out in full force and that meant the park was filled with people spending their own lunch hour lying on the grass, the sounds of kids playing in the nearby park, people walking their dogs or just sitting in the shade reading the paper. He could picture himself surprising Daryl on his lunch break sometime, driving them here to lounge in the sun and enjoy a little pocket of tranquillity with each other in the middle of a hectic work day. They’d eat out of tubs from home, left overs from the night before or, if Rick had time, something fresh he’d make before leaving for his shift. They’d share a drink between them, lay side by side in the shade of a tree and he’d tell Daryl all about how much he hated paperwork and how Tracey had nagged him to death for half the morning. Daryl would bitch about some stuck up prick who insisted on having his car fixed up _yesterday_ and Rick would grin at him because grumpy Daryl is really fucking adorable.

He almost felt cheated, he realised later when they’d driven back to Daryl’s place, unloaded the bike from the truck and Rick had stowed his clean clothes in the spare room Daryl had given to him. Cheated because in his head he had this whole idea of what it would be like for Daryl to be his, for them to actually be a couple but he really had no idea if that would or _could_ ever happen.

He threw himself into the only job he had left to help Daryl out with that afternoon, painting the woodshed and the back of the house while Daryl sat in one of the hand carved chairs with an arm length piece of wood between his palms, rubbing it smooth with coarse sandpaper. It was only later, when the sun had finally dipped below the tree line that Rick gave up, throwing the brush into the almost empty paint can with an echoing clatter. He wiped his hands down his already filthy cargo pants, the ones he always saved for cleaning the car or when he helped out with community clean up programs and headed back around the house where he finds Daryl still sitting in the exact same spot, still sanding down the same piece of wood. It’d been hours since they last spoke, both completely engrossed in their individual tasks and nothing felt awkward or strained but the quiet had been important, necessary even because he needed time to think. It’s been two weeks since Daryl woke from his coma and in that short time, it feels to him as though he’s living a different life. That he’s awoken from his own, self-induced coma. By tomorrow evening he’ll be back at his own apartment, no woods or maintenance jobs to keep his mind busy, no easy companionship to look forward to and he feels as though it’s time for him to really let Daryl know just how thankful he is for reaching out to him and inviting him into his life once more. Before he approaches where Daryl is still engrossed in his task, he takes a quick detour into the kitchen, grabs them a light beer each then heads back out. He gently eases himself into the seat beside Daryl, gingerly stretching out tight muscles as he sits and holds one bottle out, handing it over once Daryl has carefully placed the sandpaper and wood on the ground at his feet before taking a refreshing swig from his own beer.

“My parents passed away about six years ago now,” Rick blurts suddenly and quietly, causing Daryl’s head to whip around to look at him with his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed with concern. For a moment, Rick has no idea where on earth that came from or why his brain chose that as an opening to what he is really trying to say. He takes another drink and watches from the corner of his eye as Daryl mirrors the movement. Then he realises what he wants to say and why he started with that. He sucks in a deep breath and turns to look out towards the woods, avoiding catching Daryl’s eyes as he speaks.

“When they died, I had Lori of course. She’d lost her mom a couple of years before so she’d already been through it and I had Shane too,” He explains while Daryl runs his fingers over a little knot in the wood towards the edge of the armrest. “They were having an affair.” Daryl looks at him again and he turns, seeing the confusion clear as day on his face and Rick has to stifle a little laugh when he realises what he’s implied. “Not my parents, I mean Shane and Lori.”

“Shit, Rick. Really?” Daryl asks, his voice low and surprised.

“Cliche I know, the best friend and the wife. Yeah, for years actually. I had no idea until she came clean about it. You know the funny thing is, I always thought they’d make a good couple but Shane pretty much pushed Lori and me together, he used to tell me she wasn’t his type. Not fun enough, too prim and proper for him.” Rick sighs heavily, drinks some more and shoves aside a bug that is valiantly attempting to crawl it’s way over to his boots. Shane had also told him he preferred his girls with bigger breasts and thicker thighs. Girls who gave it up easier than Lori would. He keeps that part to himself. Shane could be a pig at times.

“We planned our whole life out, where we wanted to take our vacations, how many kids we’d have and what we wanted them to be when they grew up and got jobs of their own. Lori always said she wasn’t ready for kids but as soon as her career settled down we’d start.” Daryl stays silent, something which Rick is eternally grateful for because he’s started now and he wants Daryl to understand.

“Then she told me, told me about her and Shane, how they were in love, can you believe that?” Rick kicks the dirt between his feet harshly, scattering up a small dust cloud that settles on the tops of his boots. “She told me they’d been cheating on me for years. She couldn’t stay with me, I wouldn’t have wanted that of course but, god Daryl, my whole world just stopped,” even now, speaking about it blocks his throat and threatens to choke him. “Shane never said a thing, nothing. I only saw him once after that, he came to pick her up after she’d packed all her stuff. He never even had the decency to explain. Bastard just sat in his truck on the phone the whole time.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, hopefully it’ll stop the tears from pooling at the corners of his eyes. For months after he’d wished he’d had the guts to storm out of the house and drag Shane out of the truck, demand an explanation, maybe get in a good punch or two. The regret is still there now, but it’s not as fierce, wouldn’t have changed anything and it wouldn’t have made him feel any better. “It felt like they died, when they both left. I felt like I was in mourning for them, for both of them, even after what they did. Sometimes I think it’d be easier to deal with if they had.” Daryl nods but doesn’t look away from where his fingers still trace the patterns in the wood beneath his palm.

“Least I’d have, I dunno, closure I suppose. Instead I got left behind with a dismal apartment that I can’t even bring myself to decorate, a job I love but throw myself into because I don’t have anything else in my life and the knowledge that the woman I planned to grow old with is happy and in love with the man who should’ve been my best friend for life.” Rick takes a deep, calming breath and finds himself feeling more settled, grounded even. He’s never really spoken about this before and it feels like a sort of catharsis for him, a liberation. He feels cleaner and wonders if he’d been able to broach the subject with Carol or Morgan before now would he feel as soothed? Probably not, he thinks. Something about Daryl just gives him the feeling of calm acceptance. He understands because he’s lived through worse.

“Sounds ta me like ya need ta get out more, live a little, outside o’work anyway. S’that why ya ain’t, like dating n shit, cos of Lori?” Daryl looks a little uncomfortable. “Guy looks like you’d have plenty women offerin,” Daryl carries on, barely louder than a whisper as he slowly picks at the label around his beer, catching the edges with his nail and scraping at the gluey residue underneath.

“Morgan, Abe, hell even Carol have been trying to set me up for the last year but not one of them felt right you know? I don’t just want someone to share a bed with. It’s not about sex anymore for me. I want the friendship I had with Shane and the love I had with Lori. Well, what I thought I had anyway and I want that with one person.” Rick stares at his feet as he speaks, embarrassment colouring his cheeks at the raw honesty. “Isn’t that what love is supposed to be? Someone you can sit and watch shitty tv with and eat off your lap? Someone you don’t have to speak to all the time because you’re just so comfortable and happy being with them even if it’s silent? Who knows you and accepts you for who you are? All the bad bits right alongside the good?” Daryl says nothing, just steadily picks at the paper between his fingers and Rick is content to let the question sit. When the silence stretches out over a few more minutes, Rick settles on a somewhat lighter subject, what he wants right now is to hear Daryl’s quirky laugh and see his little lopsided grin.

“Last date I went on was with this woman, ugh Bea I think her name was. God Daryl it was awful, she talked _the whole time,_ I don’t think I got more than three syllables out at a time the entire night. Except when she started talking about how she ‘just loves a guy in uniform’.” Daryl snorts at Rick’s attempt at mimicking her thick accent and ridiculously high pitched voice. “Alright, alright,” Rick says through his own laugher. “I _get_ that people like a guy in uniform but really? On the first date? Plus the whole time I sat there with her I’m pretty sure she was trying to picture it you know?” Rick grins sheepishly at Daryl’s continued huff of amusement. “Last thing I wanna do after a long shift at work is come home and fuck with my uniform on right?” As soon as he says the words he glances up at Daryl who’s soft laughter stopped and he _pictures it_.

 _Pulling up to Daryl’s door, still sweaty and exhausted. Finding Daryl out here, working with his hands, cleaning the leaves off the porch, adding another coat of paint to the cabin or restocking the woodpile. Perspiration dripping off heated skin, muscles quivering with the strain of the work. He can picture just sliding his gunbelt off, right here out in the open and the heated looks Daryl would give him as he sucked on that bottom lip. They’d kiss, furiously against the woodshed, hands aching and ripping at the rest of their clothes, panting hot and heavy into each other’s mouths in their desperation. Fingers digging into tired and worn muscles and Daryl would tease him, call him officer friendly and ask him if Rick was gonna take him down the station while he undid his slacks and pulled his cock out and_ Oh my god this needs to stop! Daryl is sitting a scant foot away and here he is fucking fantasising about him. His face burns with shame and lust both and he begins to wonder whether Daryl can tell what he’s thinking because his own cheeks are rosy and he’s staring down at his hands once more.

Suddenly Rick wants to know why Daryl doesn’t have someone. Wants to change the focus from himself, feels like he’s said enough for now and if he carries on he won’t be stopped. He clears his throat and desperately tries to picture Herschel naked in an attempt to cool the heat that is rushing just underneath the surface of his skin. He shudders a little as the mental image works it’s magic and turns his gaze back to Daryl once more.

“Tell me about the last date you went on?” Daryl’s eyes flick back up to his, narrowed and searching and Rick puts on what he thinks is a hopeful, encouraging smile.

“Ain’t much ta tell really, was a long time ago. Merle used ta try n’ set me up sometimes but I weren’t ever interested. Most of the women he knew were twitchy as fuck, drunk off their asses or dryin out. He found one girl though, she was kinda nice, quiet like me. Used ta follow her ma down the bar n watch over ‘er. Figure Merle reckoned we were the same me n her,” Daryl pauses for a moment, remembering a time years ago as his nail finally gets a good grasp on the label of his beer and tears a clean shred away. Years ago? If his last date was a set up by his brother, someone who’s been dead for three years. _Jesus_. Rick just watches his nimble fingers work, feeling a little resigned with the knowledge that this, in all likelihood confirms that Daryl is in fact straight. It doesn’t change how he feels about their friendship though, so he nods for Daryl to continue, sure there’s more to the story and realising that the reason Daryl hasn’t dated lately is probably similar to his own. Grief, loss. The inability to connect. He comes across as a bit of an introvert actually, Rick thinks, and he can imagine that for someone quiet and reserved like him; someone who has a tongue that could give you whiplash if you found yourself on the wrong end of it, well he can see why it’d be hard. “She was nice, sweet even. She was young and pretty, if ya like that sorta thing,” he shrugs one shoulder. “Felt sorry fer her. Her ma was a real piece of work, bit like my ol’ man.” Daryl rolls the paper strip between his fingers and then drops it into the empty bottle, following the motion with quiet sigh.

“What happened then?” Rick asks and suddenly finds himself wondering whether Daryl has ever tried going out and finding himself a date, or whether any of the guys from the garage ever tried to set him up since.

“Nah, she weren’t my type.” Daryl’s feet shuffle beneath him and he makes to push himself up from his seat, reaching out his hand for Rick’s now empty bottle too. Instead of handing it over Rick stands and swipes Daryl’s from him, putting a finger into each one and throwing him a playful smirk. Daryl looks slightly blindsided for a moment and Rick hates himself a little because once again he’s flooded with a rush of longing for the man in front of him. “I….uh,” Daryl stutters, eyes wide and open, his tongue darts out and Rick feels his grin falter just a little as he stands so close to the thing he can’t help but long for.

Then, it happens and Rick’s not sure how long he doesn’t breathe for, Daryl’s mouth moves but his ears struggle to process the words, too enraptured by the slightly stunned look flitting across Daryl’s face. He blinks in confusion and his own tongue swipes across his bottom lip in an attempt to reintroduce some moisture to the suddenly dry flesh. “What?” Rick asks stupidly and doesn’t even register the way Daryl’s eyes go back to their standard, defensive squint, or the half step back he takes or even the flex of Daryl's hand into a loose fist at his side.

“Said I ain’t inta girls, Rick,” He says quietly but firmly and Rick can feel the tension rolling off him in waves, how many times has Daryl told someone this same thing and had a negative reaction? “Never really have been.” He adds, his face dropping into a clear mask, unreadable, detached. _Oh. Oh!_

“So, you...you’re gay?” Rick asks, trying hard to stop the absolutely childlike, euphoric grin that wants desperately to take over his entire face at the admission because he’s pretty damned sure that’d go down like a ton of bricks right now.

“Pretty sure. yeah,” Daryl says in a growl, almost angrily. _Pretty sure… hang on, pretty sure?_ Rick scrubs his jaw with his free hand for a moment, panic and excitement coursing through him in equal parts because isn’t that exactly what he wanted to hear? And what on earth does he say now?

“That’s good,” Rick says so quiet it’s barely audible over the scrape of his stubble against his suddenly damp palm. “That’s good,” He repeats, looking up at the confusion on Daryl’s face through his eyelashes.

“It don’t bother ya? Me bein’ inta guys?” Daryl whispers like he’s frightened to hear the answer.

“Bother me?” Rick laughs a little and he’s not sure that it doesn’t sound a little manic in such a serious moment. He can feel Daryl curling into himself, can see his shoulders rounding slightly at the sound of his laughter and Rick slowly bends down to put the two empty beer bottles on the ground at their feet. He straightens back up and finds himself a step closer to Daryl, drawn in like a magnet. “No Daryl, you liking guys definitely doesn’t bother me,” He can feel the goosebumps already marching their way across his overheated skin, can feel the hairs stand to attention, reaching out towards Daryl as if they’re leading the advance and just waiting for the rest of him to follow suit. He licks his lips again just as he sees Daryl's tense body language begin to relax. Eyes, no longer pale blue and narrowed but dark and wide now, flick down, following the motion of Rick’s tongue before returning to his eyes quick as lightening and if he hadn’t been this close, hadn’t been staring, his hungry gaze across Daryl’s face, Rick might have missed it. But he saw it, and it’s all the opening he thinks he needs.

“No?” Daryl whispers again, his voice crackling slightly on the vowel, much more gritty and rough now and his eyes flickering between Rick’s mouth, his eyes and the base of his throat. Rick shakes his head minutely, less than a foot away from Daryl now, watches as Daryl’s tongue peeks out, licks one corner of his mouth and pulls the soft skin of his lip in behind his teeth.

“No,” Rick echos and with a quick inhale he reaches out with one hand towards Daryl’s face, pauses when he sees the way Daryl seems to flinch away from the proffered contact for just a millisecond. He raises an eyebrow, a question and Daryl responds by letting his lip spring free of his teeth and nodding fractionally. Rick’s fingers brush featherlight against the skin underneath Daryl's ear, soft strands of hair tickle the back of his knuckles as he pushes his hand further, his palm gently cupping the back of Daryl's head, fingertips brushing against the small shaved area, the jagged edge of a crescent shaped incision site. His other hand reaches forward and wraps itself around the curve of his hip. He goes slow, giving Daryl plenty of time to say no, making his intentions perfectly clear just incase this isn’t at all what he wants. He feels stilted breath, heavy with the fragrance of beer and cigarettes ghost across his lips and with that one puff, that one gentle caress of air he loses a fraction of his self control.

Daryl's lips are damp against his own but not entirely soft. He can feel the little rough patches where skin has been torn and shredded with nerves. He feels every little jagged edge as he presses forward, not moving, not trying to gain control or force Daryl to open and let his tongue slide inside. He’s just as satisfied with this gentle, promising brush of lips, the subtle scrape of stubble against stubble, with the feeling of Daryl’s hair between his fingertips and how hot the skin along his hip feels underneath his hand. He’s waited so long to be this close, to be allowed to kiss Daryl that he knows he could be just as happy if this is as far as they go for now. The sharp exhale of air that washes over him as Daryl breathes out through his nose, releasing the breath he had obviously been holding, causes the hand resting lightly against Daryl's hip to clench, digging fingertips into fabric and pressing against skin. It acts like a domino effect, Daryl shudders beneath him just once, his good hand reaches out and grabs tight and hard onto Rick’s waist and his lips part, his wet tongue pushing forward and catching Rick by surprise as it presses against his still closed mouth.   

The soft slide of Daryl's tongue makes him shiver as it winds forward into his willing mouth, dances tentatively against the ridges of his teeth and flicks lightly across the pointed tip of his own tongue. He relaxes into it, letting his mouth go lax so that Daryl can lead the way, so he can explore and take whatever he wants. Rick will give anything to him, give it all over. He tilts his head slightly, takes a small step forward so that his body is pressed lightly against Daryl’s front, the arm still braced across his chest making it difficult to get too close. Daryl’s hand moves down slowly, in time with the gentle probing of his tongue until it reaches the hem of Rick’s shirt and cautiously slips underneath the fabric. New goosebumps flair up, all over his body this time as soon as their skin makes contact and Daryl’s thumb skims over the furrow of his hips in tiny, maddening circles. Rick can feel the thundering heartbeat beneath the heel of his hand where it rests against Daryl’s pulse point and his breath leaves him in a huff against Daryl’s mouth, his stomach muscles tense with the overwhelming sensations of skin, lips, teeth and thrumming heartbeats.

Rick’s eyes are closed, the sensations too much to allow them to stay open, Daryl’s face too near for him to see anyway. It makes the sounds around them even louder, despite the roaring of blood in his ears, pushed furiously through his veins by adrenaline. There’s a bird close by, in one of the trees to their right. Rick can hear it shouting at them, calling out to it’s mate that there’s danger nearby. He can hear the quiet tinkling of the creek, it’s subtle, far away but they’re downwind and the breeze helps to carry the sound. He can smell the rich earth beneath them, mingled with the distinctive scent that rolls off Daryl in waves. Beer, cigarettes, sweat and the lingering hint of spice from their meatballs in the park. Lips move against his, softly, hesitantly in a way the screams innocence. Not a term he ever thought he’d use to describe a man like Daryl Dixon. A hand moves across his skin, upwards, skirting the ripples of his ribs and back down again causing his muscles to spasm lightly as they caress the parts of his side that are ticklish. Fingers lightly brush against the hair that covers his back, slightly damp with perspiration, then dip lower. Two fingers circle underneath his denim waistband, less than a nails width into hidden territory. It’s intimate, like a promise, like the kiss isn’t enough. Like there _has_ to be more. Daryl’s tongue pushes further into his mouth and a soft moan vibrates across his teeth. It makes something in Rick’s stomach plummet, like driving over a sharp hill at speed and his hand moves from Daryl’s hip, snakes around to caress the scarred skin along his lower back, gently roaming over the hills and valleys mapping out the ridges and feeling the difference in texture underneath his palm.  

Daryl’s tongue flicks against Rick’s bottom lip once more as he pulls back, breaking the kiss but he doesn’t retreat far. He presses his forehead against Rick’s, his eyes are closed and his breathing is fast and shallow, his hand still planted firmly against the elastic of Rick’s underwear, the pad of his thumb still lightly stroking the skin there.  

“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I walked into that hospital room and saw you awake and alive.” Rick pants, licking his lips to chase Daryl's unique taste still lingering along his flesh.

“Reckon I wanted ta do that to ya since we was kids,” Daryl huffs, his voice laced with the hint of nervous laughter. “N’ here I was thinkin’ ya was straight.”

Rick pulls back then, surprised. Daryl had never once given the impression that he had wanted Rick when they were young. He had no idea that Daryl felt anything for him except reluctant toleration of the kid who’d annoy him by hanging around and pinching half his smokes. He laughs, a rich, relieved sound that makes Daryl’s lip quirk at the corner and his eyes glitter in the sunlight.

“I didn’t know I wasn’t till I got out of college,” Rick admits dipping his head to catch Daryl’s gaze that has slowly drifted down and is now focused somewhere around his clavicle. “I told you. When you were in the hospital, before you woke up. Told you everything, how I used to have a serious crush on you when we were kids but I just didn’t realise that’s what it was at the time.” Rick finally withdraws his hand from Daryl’s hair, relaxes his fingertips where they had flexed against his bicep and pulls back, feeling the drag of Daryl's hand as it pulls away from his waist.

“Ya did it fer me ya know? I’d watch ya roun’ school, with Shane n all them other jocks. They were all a bunch of pricks but ya were kind n nice n ya always looked so fuckin good. Ruined me ya did. Used ta go home n think ‘bout ya all night. Then ya’d come n smoke with me, chatter on like ya couldn’t help yerself.” Daryl chuckles lightly, remembering. “Never did like any o’them girls we used ta go ta school with. Merle used ta rail on me ‘bout it ya know? Used ta call me a pussy, ask me why I weren’t out chasin’ tail like the other kids my age. Askin me if our Pa was right n’ I really was some kinda fairy.” Daryl’s lip curls as the words spill out, unchecked. “Couldn’t tell him could I? Tell him that none o’them chicks did the same thing fer me that some pretty, curly haired boy did with his fuckin’ pouty lips and cute ass could.” Daryl’s cheeks are more red than pink now and his eyes flit around unable to make contact with Rick’s.

Daryl moves away, lowers himself gently back into the chair and looks pointedly to the empty one beside him. Rick sits, he could grab Daryl, pull him from the chair, push him into the house and kiss him again but perhaps now isn't the time. Perhaps now is the time to talk, to explain rather than to rush. If Daryl’s not been with a man, well that’s ok, Rick hasn't either but if he’s been on dates and never really been interested. Does that mean Daryl hasn't….ever?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick decides to do this right and take Daryl on a proper date. 
> 
> Daryl thinks that Rick is sweet and a bit of a goofy kid, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. 
> 
> Soooooo glad to hear you all enjoyed THEM FINALLY KISSING! 
> 
> I know you were all totally gunning for proper smut this chapter BUT alas, by all accounts we Brits are a little on the reserved and repressed side and of course, you can't put out without going on at least one date right?? 
> 
> (Ok NONE of that is true I'll add - in fact if you're not in the UK have a little trawl on the net for a tv program called 'Naked Attraction' and you'll see just how unrepressed and unreserved Brits really are.) 
> 
> Regardless, I couldn't jump into explicit fully without sending the boys on a date :D 
> 
> As you get towards the end of this chapter, you'll see where it's heading!
> 
>  
> 
> So you all are aware that the amazing Tweedo beta'd this for me... well she has a new fic that's unravelling at the moment which is utterly brilliant called Shadows of War, 1969 you should go check it out and while you're there, you NEED to read the companion fic by 1lostone (who very kindly beta'd a very long HP fic I wrote a while ago at really short notice!) Her fic goes by the name of Shadows of War, Daryl's Journals and Letters Home. 
> 
>  
> 
> Links to both fics:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11941452
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11945544
> 
> Anyway, onto the story!

It’s past midnight before Daryl and Rick head inside for the night and after a long day filled with hard work and more than one emotional conversation, Rick finds himself feeling drained and exhausted. As he’s standing in the bathroom, brushing his teeth he wonders whether he should have kissed Daryl goodnight. There had been a moment, before Daryl headed to his room, where he’d wondered whether Daryl was going to kiss  _ him  _ but he hadn’t and Rick didn’t want to push. He wanted Daryl to take this at his own pace, he was more than happy to take things as slow as Daryl needed. Rick had been in the kitchen fetching himself a glass of water to take to bed when Daryl hesitated in the doorway, looking slightly nervous and a little unsure but the moment had been shattered by a particularly loud screech owl somewhere outside that had startled Rick, making him jump and spin around. Daryl had chuckled at him, given him a slight nod, a mumbled goodnight and disappeared behind the pale wooden door. So Rick heads to bed himself, feeling lighter than he has in a long time as he buries himself under the covers and his mind replays the kiss they’d shared over and over until he finally drifts off to sleep, wondering sleepily whether Daryl is thinking about it too. 

The next day Daryl, as always, is up long before Rick is. Every day he’s spent here Rick has tried to wake up first, part of him simply wants to see Daryl rumpled and drowsy in the early morning light but no matter how early he rises Daryl is always awake and either puttering around the kitchen or outside drinking coffee and enjoying his morning cigarette.This morning is no different, Rick finds him standing at the edge of the woods, leaning against a large spruce, steaming mug of coffee in one hand, half smoked cigarette in the other. He spots Daryl out of the kitchen window and can’t help but stare at how perfectly he suits the surroundings. He’s wearing a pair of light grey sweats with a matching t-shirt that is obviously loved and well worn if the smattering of holes that run along the hemline are anything to go by. He’s barefoot as he often is in the morning and not for the first time Rick wonders how Daryl can walk so easily outside with nothing to protect his feet. 

Rick is sad to be leaving so soon after breakfast but he has his mandatory back to work counselling session this morning which he can’t miss if he want’s to be allowed back on shift tomorrow and, as much as he has enjoyed his time out in the woods with Daryl for company, he’s ready to get back on the proverbial horse. So after another round of bacon, eggs and some particularly amazing homemade french toast, he shoves his clothes back into his bag, takes a quick check to make sure he hasn’t left anything behind and heads back into town with a promise from Daryl that he’ll call if he needs anything and that they’ll see each other again once Rick’s finished with work. 

The counselling goes off without any issues, it’s over and done with well before their allotted two hours are up and he heads over to the station straight after to let the Chief know, handing over the confirmation letter approving him for active duty once more. He picks up his badge and firearm and his rota for the next two weeks. Herschel has, thankfully, given him a nice and easy schedule and he’s happy to see that it leaves most of his evenings free. He spends the rest of the day catching up on the household chores, giving his apartment a thorough clean out because he fully intends to bring Daryl here at some point and even though he knows that Daryl wouldn’t care one bit what his place looks like, he would still rather it didn’t seem like he was a sad old bachelor who lives in a hovel. He heads out into town and restocks the kitchen having had to go through the fridge and toss out a bunch of stuff that had gone bad while he’s been away. He even manages to get out for a long overdue run which he spends with his mind firmly fixed on the man he’s just left behind out in the woods. 

Once he’s showered and dressed in his pajama bottoms, he crawls into bed and finally gets around to texting Carol back, agreeing to go over for dinner in a couple of days. He checks in with Morgan and lets him know he’ll be back at work tomorrow and fires off a quick message to Abraham asking how he is and if there’s a work night happening again soon. He hasn’t been out with the guys from the station in months but, now that his head is in a better place, he thinks he’s finally ready to go out and let his hair down a little. It’s only after he’s finished touching base with everyone that he settles in and finally types out the message to Daryl that he’s been wondering how to word all day. 

_ Wanna get out for a bit this weekend?  _

He hits send then quickly adds 

_ I’d like to take you out on a date…..that ok?  _

Because he wants to make it clear to Daryl that it will be date, not just two guys getting out and kicking back together, they’ve been doing that for almost two weeks now and after that kiss they shared Rick wants more and he really hopes Daryl does too. He’s almost given up hope of getting a reply tonight, thinking that maybe Daryl took his meds and turned in early, but his phone lights up from where he’s set it down on the bedside table and he snatches it up with a frantic fluttering in his stomach. 

_ Dont need to take me out on a date, aint some blushin teenager waitin on her prom date Rick _

Rick laughs, he’s not really sure how he expected anything less. The answer is just  _ so  _ Daryl. 

_ God aren’t I thankful for that, pretty sure that’d get me arrested. That sort of thing doesn’t look good on a cop’s record you know.  _

Then another.

_ How do you feel about horror? They’re playing Night of the Living Dead over at Starlight Six? _

The reply comes through almost immediately and Rick breaths a sigh of relief, even as the fluttering in his stomach morphs into more of a churning sensation. 

_ Aint never been to the drive in before _

_ Is that a yes?  _

Rick is grinning so hard at the thought of having a date for the first time in a long time, that his jaw is beginning to ache and he reaches up a hand to press his fingertips into the juncture to ease the tension a little. 

_ Yeah. Always did like that movie _

_ I’ll pick you up saturday at 6, we’ll get hotdogs and rootbeer.  _

Hot dogs, popcorn and rootbeer, God, he hasn’t been to the movies in so long he can’t even remember the last film he went to see. 

_ You sure yer even a grown up Grimes?  _

Rick can just picture the look of amusement on Daryl’s face as he types, can practically hear the hidden teasing chuckle in Daryl’s voice as if he had spoken it out loud. He settles lower in the bed, getting himself comfy and slipping his bottoms off ready to sleep. 

_ Not really, no. _

Before Rick falls asleep, he wraps a hand around himself for the first time in longer than he cares to even consider and thoughts of Daryl bring him to the edge within just a few short minutes. He sleeps, deep and heavy his body tired and his mind empty for once and completely relaxed. 

 

~*~

 

Five o’clock on Saturday night finds Rick standing in front of his bedroom mirror with a pile of discarded clothes strewn haphazardly across the bed, wearing the jeans he saves for special occasions and a freshly laundered black button down. The jeans are the ones that he’s been told on more than one occasion make his ass look amazing, he turns in the mirror to test that theory out for himself and thinks that they do a pretty good job. They’re a little tighter across his thighs than he remembers but he hasn’t worn them in a while. The button down is also a snug fit across his chest and arms and he rolls back the sleeves up and past his elbows. He doesn’t mind wearing long sleeves for work or in the winter but any other time he prefers to have his forearms bare. He slips on the watch Shane bought him for Christmas one year and uses the aftershave Carol gave him for his last birthday. He’s shaved, without cutting himself, clipped his nails and brushed his teeth so hard he’s not sure he hasn’t damaged the enamel and he’d even managed to drag himself to the barbers for a quick trim leaving his curls just shy of his collar. He quickly throws all the discarded clothes back onto hangers and puts them away, does one final sweep of the apartment to make sure it looks clean and tidy, just in case Daryl decides to come back to his place for, well, for whatever. He’s too nervous already to think about what may or may not happen but he’s prepared just in case with a box of condoms, an unopened bottle of lube stashed away in the bedroom drawer and a fresh set of his best sheets on the bed. 

When he pulls up to the house a little before six, Daryl opens the door and Rick is momentarily floored. Daryl has taken his injured arm out of his sling and has managed to dress himself in a navy blue button down that makes his shoulders look a mile wide and a pair of lighter blue jeans tucked into a matt black military style boot on one foot, his brace carefully strapped on over the jeans on the other leg. His hair is clean and looks so soft Rick is tempted just to run his hands through it and brush it away from his face where it’s fallen across his forehead and obscures one of his eyes.  _ God  _ he just wants to pull Daryl in to him and kiss him, kiss him until they can’t catch a breath, kiss him until the night is through and the sun is creeping once more over the treeline. 

“You took your sling off,” Rick says finally, taking a few steps closer to where Daryl is framed in the doorway. He’s well aware that his voice comes out low and a little rough and he knows Daryl’s hears it for what it is because he flushes slightly and looks down at himself for a second before holding out the arm in question and turning it in a half crescent to show that he can cope without the sling. Rick reaches out and places a hand on Daryl’s shoulder as he moves it, feeling the muscle underneath rotate with the motion. It feels a little swollen still and the movement is a little sluggish but there’s no sign of pain across Daryl’s face and the range of motion he has in the arm is impressive.

“Got sick a’wearin the thing, ‘sides couldn’t get the damned shirt on with it on,” Daryl answers. His eyes flick to Rick’s lips before meeting his gaze again and he takes a step forward, bringing him just to the edge of Rick’s personal space. He smells like the woods, tobacco and a really soft, subtle hint of a spicy aftershave that Rick is sure he’s smelled somewhere before. Everything about Daryl is enticing, the flush still set high on razor sharp cheekbones, the closely cropped facial hair only emphasizing the beauty mark above his lips. The way the breeze catches little strands of hair and makes them dance around his face. How his shoulders are so much wider than his narrow hips that struggle to stop his jeans from lying low on his body. The way his eyes look so very blue yet hide a hint of something dark and a little dangerous in the evening light. Rick can’t help himself when lets his hand fall from Daryl's shoulder, steps forward to place his palms around the gentle curve of Daryl’s waist, spread wide across the rough fabric. He tugs him gently into his body and kisses him softly. It takes a moment for Daryl to relax into it and Rick waits patiently, his soft lips just brushing across Daryl’s until he feels them part, open for him and allow him to slowly draw the very tip of his tongue along the inside edge of Daryl’s bottom lip. Rick pulls away before he’s really ready to but he knows that if he deepens the kiss, if he pulls Daryl closer and claims his mouth, they’ll never make it to the drive in and he wants to take Daryl out on a date, he wants to do this right. 

Rick is sufficiently satisfied when Daryl’s voice comes out a little more gravelly and breathy than usual when he clears his throat and says “We gonna catch this movie or what?” Rick grins at him and chuckles a little, Daryl looks a little shy, a little embarrassed at being kissed by a man on his porch before a date and Rick honestly thinks it is pretty damned adorable. Rick knew already that Daryl was a quiet, reserved kind of man but he would never have imagined him to have bouts of, for want of a better word, bashfulness.

They spent the entire car trip talking about old horror films compared to modern day ones and how, even now, the classics are still by far the best. Daryl tells him that anything with Greg Nicotero on the special effects team makes his top 100 films of all time and Rick quietly whispers that he’s never heard of the guy before. That of course, leads to a full twenty minutes of Daryl reeling off all the movies Nicotero has ever worked on and Rick grins madly at the clear enthusiasm rolling off the man beside him. Daryl is perfectly relaxed, sitting low in his seat with his legs spread wide, one arm laid casually in the open window with a lit cigarette completely forgotten about held between his thumb and forefinger, rapidly burning down as he gesticulates haltingly with his other arm. They make it to the drive in with only a few minutes to spare and end up having to park up right at the back of the section for hatchbacks. The parking lot is full to the brim, with the bigger trucks and SUV’s all parked along the back row so as not to block the view. It looks like a drive in straight out of the late fifties, all neon lights and retro snack bars. The only difference is the modern day cars and the sounds of the more familiar radio stations as the last few trucks roll in. 

The sun is rapidly settling at the back of the lot and it casts a beautiful rose colour across the cars around them. It’s a balmy night and Rick sees a few moviegoers getting out of their vehicles and climbing into truck beds, spreading out blankets on hoods and others milling back from the snack bar. There’s a couple of custodians walking around, chatting to those that have climbed on their cars and he recalls seeing a notice saying that it wasn’t against the rules but he supposes that they need to be reminded of their liability for their own safety. As soon as they’re parked up they hop out and make their way over to the snack bar themselves, winding their way through the lot and feeling that weird little sense of community as they wander around. Daryl buys them both a root beer, a hot dog each and a box of caramel coated popcorn to share and Rick has his hand in the box as soon as the vendor hands it over. It makes Daryl laugh and Rick quickly shoves a fist full of it in his mouth with a cheeky grin. The air around them smells like a mixture of hot dogs, burgers, beer and sweet sticky caramel all mixed together with the scent of exhaust fumes. Rick breaths it all in like it’s vital for his survival. He hasn’t been to a drive in since he was fresh out of college and he’d almost forgotten what the atmosphere feels like here.

They return to the car just as the coming attractions are winding to a close and the lights surrounding them start to dim until the entire space is doused in black. The radios previously leaking various stations into the night all seem to shut off at once, car lights go out one by one and they hear a smattering of doors slamming shut in the sudden quiet. Rick waits by Daryl's door with the box of popcorn and the cans in his hands, making sure he can manage to get himself in the car ok, he’s just about to shut the door and head around to the drivers side when Daryl's hand shoots out and snags the popcorn from him, pulling it into the car with a fake frown on his face and a huff of laughter at the look on Rick’s.

“Ain’t letting ya eat the whole lot ‘fore the film even starts,” Daryl teases him and digs his own hand into the box, deftly throwing two pieces into his open mouth before nodding at the seat beside him and pulling his own door shut. “C’mon get yer ass in,” he calls through the open window.

All throughout the movie Rick can feel Daryl’s eyes flicking between him and the screen before him, everytime he turns to look, Daryl focuses on the movie before them again as if he hadn’t almost been caught looking and Rick suppresses a teasing smile. He likes the fact that Daryl can’t seem to take his eyes off him. As he sits, he thinks back to when he was laid up in the hospital and realises suddenly that Daryl looked at him a lot then too. It occurs to him that, when he’d helped Daryl to wash and dress, the heated moment he’d thought he’d imagined probably wasn’t all in his head at all. It makes a ripple of arousal course through him like a flash flood at the thought. 

“What’s up, Daryl?” Rick asks about two thirds of the way through when he catches him looking again and chewing on the edge of his thumb. “Not into the movie?” As much as he loves this film, if Daryl isn’t enjoying himself he would be more than happy to head home early. 

“S’jus’” Daryl starts quietly. “Ain’t like how it looks in the movies s’all.” He drops his hand away from his mouth and reaches for the can of rootbeer that’s sitting in the holder between them both. He takes a swig and places it back down again, lips shiny wet and so tempting.

“How’d you mean?” Rick asks, turning in his seat to face Daryl, trying to read what little of his expression he can in the low level lighting.

“Well...s’just…” Daryl hesitates. “I figured there’d be more makin’ out s’all.” Rick nearly laughs out loud. Daryl has been sitting there patiently watching  _ him  _ watch the movie, expecting Rick to kiss him right here in the front seat of his car and Rick, well he’s just been actually watching the film. 

“Oh, right yeah,” Rick grins and leans a little further across the center column. “Well you know we can fix that?” He says quietly and waits for Daryl to close the scant distance between them bringing his distinctive scent and is root beer flavoured lips with him. 

This kiss, like the two before starts out with just a soft brush of their lips together, Rick happy, once again to let Daryl set whatever pace he feels comfortable with. Daryl’s tongue quickly presses forward, forcing Rick’s lips to part and as soon as it crosses the gap a calloused hand shoots out, cups around the back of Rick’s neck and tugs sharply, bringing their chests together and forcing their lips harder against one another. Rick stifles a gasp at the sudden force of Daryl’s kiss, his tongue quickly plundering the cavern behind Rick’s teeth, sliding and winding around his own tongue, delving in as far as their positions allow. Rick reaches his own hand out in turn and finds the firm muscles that stretch along Daryl’s wide shoulder and grip tight onto the ridge there causing Daryl to jolt back slightly before pressing forward once more. The kiss quickly turns into a desperate, messy tangle of tongues, clatter of teeth and soft breathy noises that swirl around the car. The air inside thickens with their rapidly laboured breathing until the windows turn opaque with condensation and they become so fogged up that even someone standing right outside the door would be hard pressed to see inside. 

Daryl’s hands are roaming now, one quickly finding the buttons of Rick’s shirt and fumbling rapidly to slip one after the other from it’s casing, exposing the top half of Rick’s chest, flushed and heaving. The other hand moves down to rest on the thickest part of Rick’s thigh and squeezes the muscle there hard enough to make Rick’s hips rise up off the seat. Rick pulls away from the kiss in order to draw in a deep breath and the almost wild look on Daryl's face sets a fire underneath his skin and he wraps his hands around Daryl's waist and pulls him closer. Rick groans, more in frustration than arousal because the car is  _ too fucking small _ and he can’t get as close to Daryl as he really needs to. He can feel himself getting hard, his cock rapidly swelling inside it’s denim confines, pressing up against his stiff metal zipper and he only just refrains from bucking his hips up to feel a tiny bit of friction, he’s quickly regretting the decision to bring Daryl here on their first date. 

“Ugh...Rick,” Daryl groans as he breaks away from their kiss and drops his head onto the edge of Rick’s shoulder to breath heavily against the exposed skin there. Rick feels the contact like tiny little pinpricks of electricity radiating across his torso and lets his head drop back heavily onto the headrest as Daryl's breath washes over his skin causing goosebumps to raise along his arms. He knows that they can’t stay here for too long, knows they aren’t going to get a chance to watch the rest of the movie anyway and definitely doesn’t want to continue this, whatever they’re doing, in the car surrounded by hundreds of others. 

“You wanna stay?” Rick mumbles, his voice wretched and wrecked. “Finish the film? Or you wanna get out of here?”

“Don’t reckon I seen much o’the film,” Daryl whispers with a smirk on his face as he pushes away from Rick’s shoulder, righting himself in his chair and trying to subtly re-adjust the tightness in his jeans. Rick glances at Daryl's hand as he does it, taking in the sight of how hard Daryl is from just a kiss and feels that same wash of lust for the man rush through him. He looks down at himself, the first five buttons on his shirt are undone and he can see the outline of his own cock half hard inside his jeans he’s suddenly desperate to get out of here and carry this on somewhere a little more private. 

“We can head back to my place if you want? I’ve got a few beers in the fridge and I’m pretty sure there’s a western night on cable?” Rick suggests. He could, of course take Daryl back home already but his place is only down the road. 

“Yeah,” Daryl says, lighting a cigarette and giving Rick another quick nod. “S’get outta here already.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Rick return from their date :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO POST THIS CHAPTER EARLIER!! 
> 
>  
> 
> Soooooo sorry for everyone waiting for this, I have no excuse really but suddenly it popped into my head and so I'm rushing to post it now!

The ride back to Rick’s place only takes them fifteen minutes really, but as they catch every stoplight and every traffic jam in between, the time stretches out and makes it feel like hours. It doesn’t help that before they make their way out of the cinema Rick has to take a few moments to allow his lingering state of arousal to calm, lightly trembling fingers slowly re-fastening the buttons on his shirt and tugging at the crotch of his jeans to relieve the tightness of the fabric around his cock. The atmosphere in the car quickly distorts from lust tinged and heated, to nerve fuelled and awkward as they both attempt to slow their breathing and right themselves again. The car begins to lose it’s earlier heat, the windows start to clear once more and Rick is glad they hadn’t gotten any further here because it’s then he notices just how many people are milling around walking back and forth from the toilets and the snack bar. Anyone could’ve seen them and although that sends a tiny thrill down Rick’s spine, he’s sure it wouldn't have ended well. 

Rick begins to feel the first stirrings of apprehension as he navigates the now darkened streets filled with couples out on dates, people heading home after a weekend shift and groups of friends walking from one bar to another. He can feel the muscles running down his thighs start up a low-level tremor every time he brings the car to a standstill in a queue of traffic, anxiety running through him whenever his mind has a moment to consider exactly what he, what  _ they _ , are planning on doing tonight. As he nervously picks at the threads creating grooves along the outer edge of the steering wheel, he finds himself wishing that he had put a little more effort into some of the dates he’d been on since him and Lori had split. He wonders if he’d be quite so worried about going the distance with Daryl tonight if he had taken a woman or two home with him over the years since Lori left. Or maybe if he had even been out on a date with a man before now. His only saving grace is that Daryl, who appears to be making a valiant attempt at stripping the skin of his thumb clean off in the seat beside him, seems to be feeling exactly the same. 

They don’t say more than two sentences to each other the entire car journey, instead the sounds of their individual thoughts echo loud and disturbing around them. The tension thick and heavy with worry and unspoken anxieties swirling around them both. It’s not as though he doesn’t know how everything works, he’s watched gay porn many times over the years, he’s pictured sucking another mans cock and having the same in reverse as he’s taken a hand to himself in the dark. Once or twice in the last year he’s even taken to trying out how it feels to press a finger inside himself, it had felt a little weird, a little strange but all in all it’s definitely something he realised he would be up for trying with another person. That’s all well and good when he’s on his own but letting someone in, trusting someone with such an intimate act is a big deal and despite his almost overwhelming nerves, he’s glad it’s Daryl he’ll be trusting it all with. That has him wondering whether it will even be going that way, or maybe it will be Daryl trusting him with something so intimate. How will they even broach that subject? Is it something they need to have a conversation about before they start anything? Should they just make out and see what happens? Is it even something that Daryl wants to do? He’s well aware that some gay couples don’t even have anal sex, if neither of them particularly enjoy it, there’s plenty of other ways of having a loving, sexually active relationship with a person after all. 

Rick’s brain is a swirling maelstrom of thoughts and ideas, images and fleeting reminders of sensation flickering around and around as he tries to keep his concentration firmly fixed on the road before him and not the man beside him. He barely even registers the fact that he’s parked the car and they’re already heading into his building. It’s the mechanical clanking of the lift that brings him back to attention and only then because the damned thing has been out of action for the last week or so and the building manager had finally managed to get it back online late last night. The heavy metallic doors slide to a close and he’s suddenly shut in a four by four metal box with a man he just wants to run his hands all over. He stands as far from Daryl as he can, only offering a shy smile every now and then because if he looks too long, if he moves too close then he will  _ have  _ to put his hands on him and there’s no way he’s getting caught in an uncompromising position in a public space. He can’t even imagine the shit he’d get from the guys at the station if he managed to get himself hauled in for public indecency. He suppresses a laugh when he imagines exactly what Abe would say if he were the one to get the call for something like that, he’d rather not have to explain that thought to Daryl right now. Daryl is currently leaning against the back wall of the elevator like he owns the fucking thing, surrounded by reflected images of himself and Rick’s eyes just can’t decide which version of him to drink in. He tucks his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and leans back against the wall himself, mirroring Daryl’s easy, laid back pose in an effort to keep his hands to himself. 

Thankfully it’s only a short ride up and before he knows it they’re standing inside his flat and Daryl’s eyes are flicking from corner to corner, taking in his surroundings, assessing the place like the hunter he is. Rick moves inside, thumbing the light switches as he goes and heads straight for the kitchen to grab them both a drink. 

“Beer or soda?” Rick calls out to where Daryl is slowly walking around the living area, running one hand along the back of his sofa as he continues to look around thoughtfully. 

“Got anythin’ stronger?” Daryl calls back and Rick straightens up from where he’d been bent low with his head in the refrigerator to look at him with one raised eyebrow. 

“Got some whiskey, vodka and I  _ think  _ there’s a bottle of tequila around here somewhere…..” Rick says absentmindedly, shutting the door and starting to hunt around his liquor cupboard. “Running a little low on mixers though.” He pulls all three down and lines them up along the work surface before turning back to Daryl once more.

“I’ll take a shot o’tequila,” Daryl nods, walking to stand in the kitchen doorway. He still looks nervous, Rick thinks as he lets his eyes rake over the tight set of his shoulders and the hands that are clasped into loose fists alongside his hips. Rick pulls down two shot glasses, lines them up on the side and pours them both a drink, holding Daryl’s out for him to take and lifting his own to his mouth but pausing just before the glass touches his lips. 

“You wanna do it properly?” Rick asks, thinking of the lemons he bought when doing the grocery shopping. 

“Sure,” Daryl says walking further into the room to stand beside Rick, hip cocked against the counter. Rick puts his glass back on the side and reaches for the stack of lemons from the fruit bowl, the chopping board from beside the toaster and a sharp knife off the magnetic rack attached to the tiles. He lines the slices up on the board, salt beside them and shot glasses either side and can’t help the shit-eating grin he throws Daryl as a challenge as he slowly licks the skin along his hand, making sure that Daryl is watching as he does. 

Oh Daryl is definitely watching, his eyes are tracking the slow drag of Rick’s tongue along his skin, the way his fingers smear salt across the wet strip and the single drop of juice that falls from the lemon slice and onto his thumb. Rick pauses, cocks his head while he waits for Daryl to do the same and he is just as fucking mesmerised by Daryl’s tongue, his lips, his fingers.  _ Fuck  _ this was such a good idea. He’d pictured them sitting side by side with the tv on, not knowing how to make the first move but this, this was only leading in one possible direction. This was flirting without words, a blatant invitation and Rick is unsure who exactly is seducing who here. 

They down another shot each, eyes locked as they throw back the earthy, peppery liquid and chase it with the sour, stinging lemons. Rick’s lips burn a little from the mix and he runs his thumb across the skin as he grabs up the discarded rinds and  throws them in the trash.

“Need another?” Rick asks as he holds his hand out for Daryl’s empty shot glass and smiling when their fingers brush as Daryl hands it over with a minute shake of his head.

“Nah. M’good. Wouldn’t say no to a beer though,” Daryl says, heading to the fridge to help himself while Rick puts the liquor away and rinses their glasses out in the sink. He can feel Daryl’s eyes on his back as he moves around the small kitchen and wonders whether the heated flush across his cheeks is from the rush of alcohol hitting his system or the fact that Daryl is standing just a few feet away. 

“Ya havin’ one?” Daryl asks as he leans heavily on the refrigerator door with a cold  bottle dangling from his hand. Rick nods and Daryl grabs another, twisting the cap and with a perfect aim he throws them both into the trash can across the room, his lips twitching at the edges when they hit their mark. They take their drinks and head over to the sofa, Daryl sits himself down on one end and Rick on the other. It’s not the easy press of bodies, hip to shoulder as it had been out at Daryl's place deep in the woods. There’s an edge of anticipation to the distance between them and Rick turns and lets his eyes travel over Daryl’s face, down his shoulders and over the length of his body. He uses his police training to try and get a read on the man beside him and comes to the conclusion that Daryl is simply in the middle of a situation he’s never been faced with before. 

“You nervous Daryl?” Rick asks quietly and watches Daryl’s face as he mulls over the question, drinks long and deep from his beer then turns his body towards Rick, pulling his knee up onto the sofa so that it brushes lightly against Rick’s thigh. 

“Mhm,” Daryl mumbles, drawing his lip between his teeth and chewing the skin there. “Ya know I ain’t never….ya know? With a guy right?” His eyes are fixed somewhere along the black plastic brace around his shin but every now and then Rick catches a flash of blue that peeks out at him through blonde lashes. 

“Didn’t know for sure Daryl but I kinda guessed,” Rick shrugs. “Look,” He turns so his body is angled towards Daryl's and places a calming hand on his knee, dipping his head to catch Daryl's eyes and tear them away from where they are firmly focused on his own foot. “Doesn’t matter to me what ya have or haven’t done and so we’re clear, I ain’t ever done anything with another guy either.”

Daryl seems to consider that for a moment, eyes narrowed and locked in on Rick’s. It feels as though Daryl is trying to look right through him for any hint of a lie. Rick just lets his mouth relax into something that he hopes is a reassuring smile and waits. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want Daryl. I’m happy taking this as slow as you need.” Rick says quietly never looking away from Daryl’s face so he can read the honesty in his words. “And if there’s anything you aren’t comfortable with all you gotta do is say and we’ll stop.” 

Daryl nods again, drops his knee from off the sofa and leans forward to place his beer on the coffee table. He turns back around and slowly lifts Rick’s bottle from his hand and puts it down beside his own before leaning in and running his palm from Rick’s elbow to his wrist then wrapping his fingers around it and just resting there. Rick wants to just push forward, lay Daryl down on the sofa and touch as much skin as he can get his hands on. He can smell the beer and tequila on his breath, the caramel from their shared popcorn and even a faint hint of spice from the hot dogs they ate at the drive in. His heart rate starts to speed up as Daryl leans in and captures his mouth in a chaste kiss, just a gentle brushing of lips that barely move against one another. Rick sighs, letting the breath he had been holding out in a relieved exhale against Daryl’s mouth and sinks into the kiss, gently probing Daryl’s closed lips with the tip of his tongue until they part and let Rick in. 

They kiss like that for a moment or two, Daryl’s thumb starts rubbing a gentle circle around the heel of Rick’s palm and goosebumps break out over his forearm at the sensual feel to the gentle touch. Daryl presses him back and he reclines slowly against the sofa, pulling Daryl down on top of him as he goes. Daryl's weight feels perfect against him all firm muscles and sharp angles and it sends a ripple of desire down Rick’s spine and he shifts in place tucking his leg underneath Daryl’s body to support his injured leg. As Rick moves Daryl does too, deepening the kiss as he releases Rick’s wrist and starts to run his hand up and down Rick’s side. Rick wraps his arms around Daryl’s back and lets his hands trail over those wide shoulders, down his spine and around to his hips before running them back up again and gripping the back of Daryl’s neck. Daryl instantly withdraws from Rick’s mouth and tilts his head, a silent request for Rick to kiss the skin under his ear, down his throat and across his adam’s apple as it bobs with every breath Daryl takes. Things quickly become heated with Daryl’s hands roaming further and becoming more confident and Rick’s breath coming out in sharp pants and he licks and sucks at the skin across Daryl’s collarbones. Daryl’s hips start to move of their own accord, rocking gently against Rick’s thighs and Rick is suddenly and overwhelmingly  _ hard _ because Daryl is a fucking vision above him and the little huffs of breath that escape from between those kiss-wet lips is more erotic than any gasp or moan could ever be.  

“I dunno what t’hell I’m doin’ here Rick,” Daryl rasps as Rick works his mouth along the taut ligaments standing out like stark ridges down Daryl’s neck. 

“This, this is good…” Rick groans, shifting his leg to free it from underneath Daryl's thigh so that he’s settled perfectly between Daryl’s hips and can feel his length brushing alongside his own. Daryl captures Rick’s mouth with his own wet heat and the kiss is a slow, messy searching one full of heavy tongues roaming together and teeth that nip. Fingers grasp at the seams of their clothing and twitch against the stitches as if they could tear the threads apart with just a touch. An unconscious grinding of hips, his or Daryl’s he’s not sure, brings them together and draws a rolling shudder through Daryl’s shoulders and down his back. Rick can feel the muscles bunch underneath his fingertips and he gasps into Daryl’s mouth but makes no move to pull away. Frantic desire spirals up through his groin, twists around his abdomen and sparks up across his chest making his nipples tingle and he’d never even known just how much of an erogenous zone they could be for him. He wants Daryl's fingers on them, testing the sensation out, rolling them between those calloused tips. Wants Daryl to taste him there, to suck them between his lips, roll his tongue across them to see how hard and how sensitive they can become. 

The image his mind provides him with intensifies the electric fire across his skin and he grinds his hips up, rubbing himself helplessly against the man above him, grazing his teeth against Daryl’s bottom lip. Daryl hisses somewhere deep in his throat at the feeling and roughly presses down harder. Ricks fingers grip tight against Daryl’s ass, keeping him closer, desperately holding him down, sparks flying at the increased friction. Rick pulls away from the kiss, unable to concentrate on something as inconsequential as coordination and tilts his head back, exposing the underside of his jaw while his lips part and his lungs work furiously to steal enough oxygen from the thick air around them. Daryl wastes no time in ducking his head and mouthing at the stimulated flesh underneath Rick’s ear, tongue tracing his jawline and nipping down his throat. The rumble that brushes across Rick’s pulsepoint makes his heartbeat flutter and he feels a disjointed worry that his furiously pounding heart can’t possibly beat any faster without him passing out or causing some sort of permanent damage. He had intended to at least get their jeans off, to feel Daryl’s cock, bare and dripping against his own but when Daryl’s movements become faster, desperate and erratic he knows they are going to finish just like this. Zips and buttons still intact like teenagers frotting together in the dark and it feels dirty and fantastic and he wouldn’t change a thing. 

“Don’t….Don’t stop,” Rick breathes into Daryl's hair as he nips along Rick’s exposed collarbone. Daryl groans in response, low and broken before reaching back up to capture Rick’s mouth again, nipping and biting his bottom lip like he had been Rick’s throat. Daryl’s hand pushes hard around Rick’s hip and cups the curve of his ass holding them tighter against one another as they pant and gasp into each others mouths, their breath salty and tequila flavoured and utterly carnal.  _ God  _ it’s like a fucking disease infecting his blood stream, conquering and capturing his cells, flowing through his veins and overriding his neocortex; ripping all rational thought from him and replacing it with sensation. Twenty three billion neurons firing all at once, all focused on the man grinding into him above. 

Rick’s knees clamp tight around Daryl's hips as they rut, his hand slips underneath the stiff waistband of Daryl’s jeans and grabs the thrusting globes of surprisingly muscled ass, feeling the flesh undulating underneath his palms. The sensual scratch of hair against his fingertips adds another level of sensation and he digs his nails in hard enough to leave crescent shaped indents in the firm skin, stretched and taut as the denim scratches harsh and rough across his knuckles. Daryl tenses, every muscle rippling, surging and he’s gasping and stammering cuss words against Rick’s skin as he’s coming, hips twitching and cock pulsing within its confines. Rick feels more than hears the mangled rasp against his throat, feels the twitching of Daryl’s length against his own and he thrusts upwards, holding Daryl close and using him to grind against until he’s whimpering with a desperate need to reach his own crest. He reaches for Daryl’s hand and roughly pushes it underneath his shirt, guides the hot, shaking fingers to his nipple and with a whisper he can only describe as  _ obscene  _ he begs Daryl to touch him. 

Those fingers hesitate for less than a second before they’re rolling and pinching the nub and Rick’s back arches beautifully off the sofa because it feels indescribable, every nerve ending a slave to Daryl’s touch. So overwhelmed by the weight above him pinning him down. Daryl’s lips latch onto the stubble-rough underside of his jaw, hips press down, giving him more contact to push up against. When blunt teeth latch onto his pulsepoint and bite, it pushes Rick over the edge. 

“Oh fuck….Daryl. Oh fuck!” Rick gibbers wildly, tumbling out of control as he spills, thrusting recklessly and ferociously with a muted roar that rips from his throat. 

“Shit Rick,” Daryl pants as he drops his head to rest against Rick’s shoulder and lets his hips drop, weightless and spent against Rick. It puts pressure on his chest and his stomach and he know’s he’ll have to move Daryl soon but for now he pulls him in tighter, wraps his arms around his back and lets his head fall back against the arm of the sofa. He can feel Daryl’s heartbeat slowing against his own, their beats calming down in sync and their trembling muscles slowly relaxing inch by inch. 

“That was, M’sorry…” Daryl murmurs against Rick’s skin and Rick pushes gently against him, forcing him to pull back and brace himself on his forearms, just hovering a few inches above Rick’s face for a moment and looking down at him through his eyelashes again. “Didn’t mean fer it ta happen like that.” He blushes and Rick just grins at him and lets his eyelids flutter shut for a moment. 

“For a first time with a guy I think it went pretty well,” Rick opens his eyes at the sound of Daryl’s laughter and gets swept away in the rich sound of it, little more than a huff but the smile that flashes across Daryl’s face as he chuckles is so much wider than he’s seen from him before and it’s perfect. “Think I might need to wash up a bit though.” He says and instead of pulling back, Daryl leans down and kisses him once more. It’s soft, sweet and chaste and Rick reciprocates trying to pour as much feeling into it as he can. 

When Daryl does pull back he grimaces as he resettles himself on the sofa and Rick knows he’s feeling as sticky as he is. “Why don’t you go ahead and get yourself cleaned up first, I’ll find you some sweats to wear.” He pushes up from the cushions awkwardly and tugs his shirt back down to cover the telling wet patch that is seeping through his denim jeans. He points Daryl towards the bathroom and grabs a clean towel for him before heading into the bedroom and rummaging through his dresser for some clean clothes for them both. By the time he’s hunted down a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt he’s fairly sure will fit across Daryl’s shoulders and stripped himself down, using his underwear to wipe off the worst of the come cooling against his skin and slipped into clean clothes himself, he hears the taps shut down and knocks gently on the bathroom door. Daryl opens it, standing there with his jeans undone, no underwear in sight just the tight curls of dark pubic hair peeking out from the open v and Rick hands the bundle of fabric over, trying desperately to keep his eyes on Daryl’s face and not think about how he’d rather take him into the bedroom and start all over again, doing it properly this time. 

“Will you stay?” Rick asks after closing the door and giving Daryl some privacy to change and after a few moments of silence, wondering whether Daryl had heard him or not, the door opens slowly and Daryl is standing there wearing Ricks clothes, his foot brace discarded on the bathroom floor behind him, he looks as though he’s just woken up and Rick has been waiting to see him like this for the last two weeks. Daryl steps forward with a slight limp, compensating for his aggravated injury as he moves. He nods and leans in to place another brief kiss upon Rick’s lips before stepping aside to let Rick into the bathroom to clean himself up.

As soon as he’s finished, he steps out of the room only to find Daryl waiting for him, leaning against the wall with his arms folded tight across his chest and his head tilted back. “Gonna head down fer a smoke,”  Daryl says, posing the statement as more of a question than anything else but Rick just grabs hold of  his wrist and tugs him back towards the kitchen. 

“C’mon, we can smoke in here, kitchen faces the back of the building so no one will see.” Rick says opening the window and leaning out to breathe in the night air. Daryl quirks his lips up a little at the sight of Rick’s curls, wild and rumpled from their earlier activities, blowing in the breeze. He pulls a cigarette from the battered packet, lights it with a deep draw then holds it out for Rick to take. 

The night is still and quiet around them and passing the cigarette back and forth reminds Rick of being in school again, trying to stay out of sight and not get caught. It makes him feel young and free again and he can just picture Daryl riding into the school lot on that bike of his. And  _ god  _ that thought has him thinking back to Daryl grinding against him and coming, shuddering with the strain of it and he grabs Daryl’s wrist as soon as the cigarette is flicked out into the night and pulls him towards the bedroom. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after and Rick has a question to ask.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for anyone who might be interested. We admins over at the Rickyl Writers Group are organising a special Halloween writing challenge which will be open to non-group members via our Tumblr page (which we're currently working on and should be up and running very soon!) 
> 
> If you're interested in taking part or even joining the writers group (either because you write Rickyl or just because you love reading it and love Rickyl) then get in touch! 
> 
> Keep an eye these AN's over the next few chapters for more details! 
> 
>  
> 
> and now.....onto the fic.....
> 
>  
> 
> ps
> 
>  
> 
> I'm still TOTALLY in love with all the comments and you guys for reading this!
> 
>  
> 
> A/N edit 25/09/2017 the RWG tumblr and challenge is up and running over on tumblr, right now we're taking writing prompts for the challenge so even if you're just a reader and not a writer, hop over to our tumblr and let us know what you would love to read about! 
> 
> https://rwgroup.tumblr.com/

Something is different. Rick can feel it, even before he opens his eyes. He barely moves, just the twitch of his sleep heavy hand across the sheets tangled around his hips. His sheets, not the woodsy scented cotton ones he’d lain in over at Daryl's place and yet, the room has a faint hint of those very same woods and he breathes them in. The bed is cold beside him, that part is uncomfortably familiar but even in his drowsy state he knows that they should be warm against his skin. Rick opens his eyes and turns his face to the side and his eyes dimly take in the creased pillow, the rumpled sheets; the half empty glass of water on the bedside table and then he remembers.

Daryl had shared his bed last night.

Daryl who had allowed himself to be all but dragged into this very room, who had let himself be pushed softly back onto the bed. Had allowed Rick to slowly strip him of his clothes even as he rid himself of his own. Who had looked so otherworldly as Rick had proceeded to run his mouth over the knotted scar tissue that creeps around his shoulders and touches the edges of his hips. Rick had taken his time, letting his tongue caress the evidence of a violent past as Daryl tried and failed to keep his breathing steady and measured. He’d mouthed the sensitive skin, flushed and shivering with a rapidly quickening heartbeat, along Daryl’s throat all the way down the center of his chest. He’d moved down through the perfect trail of hair leading from his navel and had nuzzled in the thick patch of it surrounding the base of Daryl’s steadily filling cock. Rick had breathed in the musty scent of his arousal, his lips accidentally brushing lightly against Daryl’s length as it twitched like it had a mind of it’s own and a desire to be in charge of the night’s proceedings. Rick had looked up the line of Daryl’s contradicting torso, rippling with tensing muscles borne from hard work yet still soft and rounded with Daryl’s advancing age, only to find those quiet blue eyes staring back down at him, wide with wonder and unrestrained heat.

He had been building himself up to take Daryl into his mouth, to feel that skin slide along his tongue, feel the weight of him against his lips and to taste the arousal that sent waves and waves of desire rushing through his body. He sucked at the skin, stretched and taut over Daryl’s hip bones and whispered “I’ve never done this before,” soft enough that he wasn’t entirely sure that Daryl had heard him. He must have though, because before Rick could even wrap a hand around Daryl’s renewed arousal, strong hands had grabbed him by the shoulders, pulled him back up and kissed him hungrily before rolling them over and attacking his neck with the same hunger he had Rick’s mouth. Daryl had spread his weight over Rick’s body with their hips and thighs tangled like oddly matched puzzle pieces, not quite a perfect fit but slotting together nonetheless. Daryl's arms had rested on either side of Rick’s head, caging him and narrowing his world so much that there was only Daryl left. He could feel himself writhing underneath the strong body pressing him into the mattress. The muscles across Daryl’s chest and abdomen rolling against his own, their sweat mingling together as much as their breath had. It felt so different grinding against one another with the uncomfortable friction of clothing between them. Rick had lasted only a few moments before he was reaching for the tube of lube, flicking the cap off and gripping them both in one slicked hand as Daryl gasped obscenely at the new sensation, pushed into his fist and rubbed along Rick’s length. _God_ it had been something else, something completely unexpected to feel the slick slide of another mans cock running up and down the length of his own. To feel the heated, pulsing skin pushing forcefully in and out of his barely managing fist. Every single time the head of Daryl’s cock dragged against his sensitive frenulum Rick thought he would fly apart at his loosely stitched seams and he could only clutch Daryl tighter to him. Muttered words drowned out by harsh panting breaths ghosted against his ear as Daryl mindlessly rutted against him, taking his pleasure and devastating Rick in his wake. They’d finished like that, with Daryl pushing down and Rick pressing up. Desperately grinding against one another until Rick’s hand gripped tighter as he lost control and coated his stomach white. Daryl had pushed into the rapidly cooling pool of come covering his hand and his abs until he added to the mess with his head tucked into Rick’s sweat coated neck whispering unidentifiable words in a low growl against his skin as they both trembled and panted against one another.

Now though, Rick is alone in his bed. Just as he has been for too many long nights and Daryl is nowhere to be seen. He runs his hands through his hair, taming it as much as he can with his own fingers and sits up, taking in the jumble of clothes strewn around the floor and notes that Daryl’s clothes are missing too. Worry clouds his still slightly foggy brain as he climbs out of bed and pulls his sweats on. He wonders, as he draws back the curtains and lets the morning sun wash over his skin, whether he pushed Daryl too far? If spending the night in a strange bed had been too much for him? He hurries out into the apartment and is hit with the ever comforting smell of fresh coffee from the kitchen and breaths a sigh of relief because, if there’s coffee, then that means he will find Daryl somewhere. A quick glance at the open bathroom door answers that question and he heads through the hallway to find not only the living room devoid of Daryl but also the kitchen completely empty, except the pot of coffee set out and still steaming on the counter.

Daryl is still nowhere to be seen so Rick pours himself a cup, blowing on it twice before taking a gulp that burns as it hits his tongue and scorches his throat before abandoning it to cool and heading into the bathroom to wash the evidence of last night from his stomach and the slightly matted mess of hair covering his lower abs. By the time his skin is soft and clean once more, when his teeth are brushed and his bladder empty his coffee has cooled enough for him to drink. He takes a couple of sips before setting it back on the counter and walking around the apartment, opening the curtains wide and picking up the detritus from the previous night as he hunts around for where he’d left his mobile phone.

“Goddamnit, where the hell did I….” Rick mutters as he slides his hand down each of the sofa cushions, under the blanket that lays scrunched in a pile at one end and leans down to check underneath the armchair. He hears the sound of the front door sliding open just as he’s reaching out and running his searching fingers along the floor and hears a soft laugh from behind him as he straightens up to see Daryl standing framed in the doorway with a tight smile across his mouth.

“Hey,” Rick says a little sheepishly, feeling a light flush of embarrassment at being caught with his ass in the air and his hair no doubt looking more wild than usual after hunting around his apartment at a frantic pace. “Kinda thought you’d bailed for a while there.” He runs a nervous hand around the back of his neck, pressing slightly on the pressure point there before scraping it over his jaw. He needs to shave but thinks maybe he can get away with it for one more day. He knows though, that he’s not got long before he has to think about getting ready and decides that he’ll get into his uniform at home today, it’ll give him a little more time with Daryl before he has to head in.

“Nah, just went down for a smoke,” Daryl says showing the packet and lighter in his hand with a quick turn of his wrist before tucking them both into his back pocket and heading into the apartment. Rick watches him as he walks, his brow creasing into a concerned frown at the limp that seems to be a lot more prominent this morning, even though Daryl has his walking boot strapped back in place. Daryl notices his concerned gaze and after glancing down at the offending leg, shrugs it off. “Got talkin ta one of yer neighbors on the way back up. Guy called Jim?”

Rick just offers him a blank look, in all the years he’s lived here he’s never really paid any attention to anyone else in the apartment block. Too wrapped up in his own misery and putting in extended hours at the station never really left much time or enthusiasm to be ‘neighborly’. Well, unless you count the woman on the floor below him who’s always eyeing him up in a way that makes his skin crawl a little. To be honest, he’s not surprised she makes him feel like that with her backcombed hair, miniskirts and more gaps in her smile than teeth. He suppresses a shudder at the memory of her cornering him in the elevator a few months back, grinning at him like she’d be more than happy to eat him for dinner.

“S’nice guy, jus’ moved down from Knoxville few months ago,” Daryl explains, bringing Rick’s thoughts back to him rather than the scary blonde woman from the floor below. Daryl continues into the kitchen and starts pouring himself a cup of coffee, then leans heavily against the counter as he takes a sip. His eyes focused on Rick’s face over the rim of the cup. It’s one that Shane had bought him as a joke years ago that says ‘ _Feel safe at night, sleep with a cop_ ’ with a picture of a pair of cuffs on it. Rick laughs at the sight and Daryl gives him a knowing grin as he lowers it and holds it at hip height. Rick turns back to the search for his mobile as Daryl continues, moving the magazines from the coffee table and heading over to check through his jacket pockets. “Anyways, guy mentioned he’s lookin fer work so I told him ta come see me down the garage in a few days, says he’s used ta workin on bikes. Reckon I can use a guy like him around the place.”

Rick heads over to the kitchen and swipes his own cup from the counter, it’s cool enough now that he drains half of it in one go. He cocks his hip against the counter opposite from where Daryl is still lounging, looking casual and pretty damn devastating even with the puffiness around his eyes from their late night and the obvious strain his leg is putting on him creeping across his face. Rick worries that Daryl should probably still be taking it easy, in fact he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen him use the crutches in a while and wonders whether he’s booked in for any PT yet. For a split second he thinks about calling Daryl out on it but before he can open his mouth to say it, he remembers how much Daryl hates being fussed over so he pushes that thought aside. Daryl’s old enough to look after himself.

“You spend one night at my place and you’re already doing better with my neighbors than I have in over two years,” Rick teases, watching Daryl’s adam's apple bobbing as he swallows another mouthful of his coffee. He’s tempted to step forward and press Daryl into the counter, to force him to drop his cup and to pass his lips over the protrusion that really shouldn’t be as much of a turn on as it is. He knows however, that if he starts something now, he’ll never make it to work on time and he still needs to drive Daryl home before he heads to the station.

“S’just right place, right time I guess,” Daryl shrugs.

“Okay, I gotta be at the station in an hour,” Rick says turning his head to scan around the kitchen. “Don’t suppose you saw what happened to my phone last night?”

“S’in the bedroom I think, heard it goin off at the asscrack of dawn this morning, man you gotta learn ta put that on silent when ya sleep Rick,” Daryl grouches and Rick throws him a grimace in apology.

“Sorry, did it wake you?” Daryl shrugs again like it’s no bother that he’d been woken up in the early hours of the morning. “It’s habit I suppose, I’m used to getting called into work in a pinch,” Then quieter Rick adds, “Used to sleeping alone.” Daryl nods and shifts his feet as though he’s suddenly remembered that they’d shared a bed last night, that they’d been intimate and this, now, is the morning after. Almost as if before Rick mentioned it he’d forgotten and they’d slipped back into the tentative morning routine they’d established out in the woods at Daryl’s place. Rick sees the moment for what it is and steps closer to Daryl, reaching around him to place his now empty cup on the side. He puts a hand on Daryl’s arm, smiling lightly and leaning in ever so slightly so Daryl has no choice but to look at him.

“Last night,” Rick starts and he stalls, his breath catches as Daryl’s teeth catch his lip and begin to worry at the soft, coffee wet skin. “It was….I’d like to do it again,” He can smell the rich aroma mixing in with the cigarettes as Daryl's breath washes over him in a rush and he’s suddenly grateful that he’d had a chance to brush his own teeth before Daryl reappeared.  

“Yer askin’ me ta go steady, Grimes?” Daryl says and Rick supposes he means it to sound teasing but it comes out low, gravelly and slightly breathless. It makes Rick grin, makes his blood speed up to know he has this effect on Daryl and he leans in, just enough so that their shirts brush against each other with a subtle rasp of fabric. His fingers tighten around Daryl’s upper arm and he lets his thumb rub against the defined muscle as he leans in and presses his lips against Daryl’s jaw. The skin there smells like Rick’s soap and there’s something about smelling himself on Daryl that sets tingles off in the tips of his fingers.

“Yeah, guess I am, Dixon,” Rick whispers with a grin against Daryl’s stubble covered skin. His breath catches when Daryl’s free hand reaches out and grips his hip, tight. Holds Rick like he’s trying to steady himself as Rick trails kisses along his jaw and over to the corner of his mouth. _God._ He knows he shouldn’t start this right now but Daryl is solid and warm and his lips are just too tempting. Rick’s mind traitorously plays the events of last night in little flashes that have him pressing even closer as Daryl’s cup clunks heavily on the counter. His now free hand moves to the back of Rick’s neck, pulling him closer and tilting his head so that their lips can meet in a kiss that’s heavy with need and promises that need no words. His hand tightens in Rick’s curls for a moment, making Rick jolt forward at the contact before trailing a path down the knobs of Rick’s spine, slowly working down his muscles with a tiny little tremor when it reaches the waistband of his pants before moving down to come to rest along his other hip.  

The heat between them is like an early morning campfire, banked late last night but still burning and ready to be stoked back to life once more. Before Rick knows what he’s doing, his hips are moving against Daryl’s and there is a tongue pressing heavily into his mouth, pushing aside his own and exploring the cavern behind his teeth. Daryl’s hands shift from his Rick’s hips around to his ass to keep him close and Rick can feel that he’s not the only one getting hard. It feels amazing to be held tight against Daryl’s broad body, to taste the coffee on his tongue as it explores his mouth and he allows a little groan to escape as he feels Daryl’s growing hardness press against his own. _Fuck_ the idea of just pushing Daryl’s shirt aside and kissing his way down and across his broad chest, of dropping to his knees and wrapping his lips around Daryl like he hadn’t gotten around to doing last night, burns hot and heavy inside him. Makes his stomach flip and his fingers dig tighter into Daryl's skin even as his breath puffs out heavy against Daryl’s mouth.

It’s the faint sound of Rick’s mobile announcing a message that brings them back to reality and Rick pulls back just enough so that he can drop his head a little, almost resting on one of Daryl’s wide shoulders as gentle laughter shakes him.

“Sorry, got a little carried away there,” Rick chuckles and Daryl huffs in response but makes no move to push him away, just lets his hands move back to come to rest on Rick’s hips again.

“S’ok, ya gotta get ready fer work anyways. Imma head down the garage I reckon, see if there’s anythin’ goin’ on I should know ‘bout. Speak to the guys ‘bout Jim comin’ on board.” Daryl says, his eyes, Rick notices are tight again even though his cheeks are a soft shade of almost pink and his lips tinged with red.

“Ok,” Rick says, pulling away with obvious reluctance and reaching down to adjust himself with a sheepish grin. “I’ll go get dressed and I’ll run you over there before heading in?” Daryl nods and picks his mug of coffee back up as Rick heads back into the bedroom to get into his uniform.

Rick finds his mobile on the floor beside the bed. It’d obviously fallen out of his jeans the night before without him noticing. He picks it up and scrolls through it as he starts to pull his uniform on. It’s only Carol checking in with him, she’s obviously on the dawn shift this morning and knows that Rick’s at work today too which would explain the fact that she’s texting him so early. She reminds him that he promised to come over for dinner and wonders whether he wants to come round tonight. Sophia is off on a school trip for a few days and Carol will be taking her to visit family for a week once she’s back. Rick would have liked to decline and spend the evening with Daryl but it’s been ages since he’s seen Sophia and she’s almost like a niece to him. Plus, Rick thinks, he’s pretty sure that Carol is desperate to find out more about Daryl and Rick has been pretty tight lipped about him up until now, only offering Carol snippets of information about his recovery.

As he pulls his trousers on and laces up his shoes he decides he’ll reply once he gets into work and accept the invitation. He’ll just have to arrange to meet Daryl after work tomorrow instead. Maybe next time, once he’s filled Carol in on exactly what’s been going on, Daryl might like to come with him, Rick is pretty sure Carol would extend the invitation. He’ll have to speak to Daryl about it.

Daryl’s eyes widen as Rick steps into the living room again. His neatly pressed uniform sitting perfectly and his hair is under control once more and Daryl’s eyes drag in slow motion from Rick’s feet all the way up to his face. It’s obvious Daryl likes what he sees and Rick finds it incredibly hard not to just stride over and press his advantage but he’s running perilously close to being late as it is. So instead he puts his focus on pulling his watch on and doing up his cuffs before straightening up and tugging at his jacket a little.

“Sorry, I should’ve made you breakfast or something,” Rick suddenly says, feeling like an absolute shit that he didn’t even offer Daryl any toast.

“S’all right, I’ll grab somethin’ down the garage, s’a pretty nice bagel place a few doors down. I’ll take the guys some breakfast too, might make em work a bit faster,” Daryl shrugs and Rick smiles. Being with Daryl is just so, well, easy.  

Half an hour later and Rick is waiting outside the bagel shop while Daryl stands in line. Rick watches him, the way he closes in on himself as he places his order, head dipped and shoulders rounded as if speaking to people makes him nervous. The young girl behind the counter gives him a wide smile and Rick wonders if Daryl even notices that she’s making doe eyes at him. It makes him chuckle a little to see it and it makes him feel a flush of heat knowing that he’d had Daryl in his bed last night. He watches as the girl hands over the bag, full almost to the brim, and notices the almost shy dip of Daryl's head in thanks as he leaves the shop and limps his way back to the car. As soon as he’s in and his seatbelt clicks shut he reaches into the bag and pulls out a wrapped bagel and hands it out for Rick to take.

“Figured buyin’ ya breakfast’s the least I could do after last night,” Daryl says with a tilt to his lips. “Can’t have ya runnin’ round after the bad guys on an empty stomach.”

Rick takes it and tears the paper back. It’s just a plain ham lettuce and tomato one and it makes his stomach growl as he takes a bite. He hadn’t realised just how hungry he was. He’d not really put much thought into his own breakfast, one of the guys normally brings donuts or pastries in each day and of course, Morgan and he usually head out for a muffin and a coffee on their first stretch anyway. Still, he’s glad to be starting the day with something not entirely made up of sugar.

“Mmm, thanks,” Rick mumbles around his mouthful before putting the car in drive and heading back out onto the road. “So, I’ve got plans tonight with Carol, promised her I’d pop over for dinner one night and she’s going away to visit family for a few days.” Rick chances a quick glance at Daryl from the corner of his eye but Daryl is just watching the streets as they drive and picking gently at his fingernails. “Mind if I come over after work tomorrow instead? Could bring a film, share a beer or two?”

“Tomorrow’s good. I’ll fire up the grill n’ make us somethin ta eat,” Daryl says as he turns to look at Rick before continuing. “Carol? She’s the nurse I met right, the one who kept checkin’ up on me in the hospital?” Daryl asks and Rick nods. “Tell her thanks fer watchin out fer me when ya see her.”

“I will, she’ll be happy to hear you’re up on your feet and doing better.” Rick says as he turns the corner into the garage lot. “I think she’d probably like to see you again, you know when you’re not all banged up and covered in bandages and wires anyway.” Daryl snorts his unique laugh at that and Rick grins at him.

Daryl grabs up the bag between his feet as soon as the car comes to a stop and with a small, hesitant smile and an awkward shuffle he manages to get himself out of the car. The door shuts behind him with a resounding clang and before he can get too far away Rick rolls his window down and leans out.

“Daryl!” Rick calls and Daryl turns back to him. Rick nods his head and Daryl takes a few steps back to the car, stopping just outside Rick’s door before hastily looking behind him to see if there’s anyone else around.

“You didn’t answer me,” Rick says, grinning like a teenager. He’d quite like to kiss Daryl goodbye but by the nervous glance around he’d just witnessed he’s pretty sure that would be out of Daryl’s comfort zone right now. Baby steps.

“Bout what?” Daryl asks, confused.

“Whether you wanna go steady with me?” Rick’s grin turns from something he’s pretty sure he could pass off as adorable to completely shit-eating at the blush that rushes across Daryl’s face and the soft huff off incredulous laughter that he just about catches.

“Jesus fuckin christ Rick, ya are a fuckin kid.” Daryl quips and Rick just cocks an eyebrow up at him, the grin still plastered across his face because he’s had an amazing night followed by a perfect, if somewhat rushed morning. He’s feeling pretty damned confident right now and happier than he’s been in a long time.

“Fuckit, yeah I do,” Daryl grouches before slapping a hand against the car and turning to head into the garage office.

Rick watches him walk until the door closes behind him, then pulls the car out and heads to work himself.

The smile across his face and the tightness in his chest carries him all the way to the station.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick has dinner at Carols house ( I love Carol ) then heads over to Daryl's for dinner....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK people, here is where the story really begins to earn it's explicit rating. Kinda nervous about posting this chapter because of the smut that takes place but I'm guessing that really, you're all here for the smut anyway right?
> 
> Time for me to thank Tweedo again for helping me so much with this story because when I write chapters like this, I spend a lot of time second guessing myself and then she comes along and tells me that its hot and perfect and it needs to stay just as it is! 
> 
> Also a quick thank you again to Marooncamaro, who gave me another lil confidence boost just before posting this! I love her :D 
> 
>  
> 
> oooh oooh oooh and I CANNOT believe you lot have been so aweome with the comments and Kudos! I havent ever hit 400 kudos on a story that's in progress before! 
> 
>  
> 
> (Last bit of the AN i promise!)
> 
> Don't forget to head over to the RWG tumblr and send us some asks with your suggestions for our halloween challenge! It's up and running now and you can either just send us a prompt for us to use OR you can sign up to the challenge yourself and get involved! 
> 
> https://rwgroup.tumblr.com/

“That was wonderful Carol,” Rick groans, sighing deeply. His stomach is full and content, a sudden wash of sleepiness settles over him as he pushes himself away from the table. He reaches out for Carol and Sophia’s plates as he stands, scraping the leftovers into the now empty casserole dish on the table and stacking the plates on top of one another. Carol throws him a smile as he passes her and pats him gently on the arm before picking up the cutlery and glasses and following him into the spacious open planned kitchen. 

“Hey Sophia, come help me load the dishwasher, give your mom a break yeah?” Rick calls out to where she is still sitting at the table, finishing off her drink and twirling a lock of hair around her fingers.

“You don’t have to do that Rick, Sophia and I can take care of it,” Carol tries her best to nudge him out of the way but Rick just scowls playfully at her, places his hands on her shoulders an herds her to the sofa, pushing her down with a grin. 

“Actually,” Rick starts as he walks back towards the kitchen and works on opening a bottle of wine. “I think you need to start writing me a recipe book you know,” he pours two glasses and takes one back to Carol before heading back and starting to rinse off their dinner plates, passing them to Sophia to stack in the dishwasher. 

“We learned how to make a raspberry crumble in Home Ec last week,” Sophia chirps up from where she’s dropping the cutlery into the dishwasher with a clatter and she turns to beam at him. “I can write that out for you,”  she says, grinning at Rick with a hopeful look in her wide blue eyes. He wonders whether she would be as comfortable with him if he hadn’t been one of the officers to help Carol and her out when her father had reached his worst. Sophia was a bright and bubbly little girl with people she knew well but with those she didn’t, she tended to be quiet, meek and reserved much happier to sit by herself engrossed in a book or one of her toys and watch her surroundings. 

“Sure sweetheart, why don’t you and your mom sit down together sometime and put your favourites in. Tell you what, I’ll even cook for you two one day,” Rick laughs at her shocked but pleased expression and the soft chuckle he hears coming from Carol. 

“I thought you didn’t cook?” Carol calls to him, swiveling around to lay her arm along the back of the sofa, her wine glass in hand. 

Rick turns to rest against the counter, wiping his hands on the sides of his jeans and picks up his own glass for a drink. He raises one eyebrow at her and shrugs a shoulder. “I can cook, I just sorta fell out of love with it for a while I think.” 

“Anything to do with a certain blue-eyed hero?” Carol winks at him and Rick can’t help but grin at her around his glass before throwing a quick glance at Sophia to see if she’s paying attention but the youngster is still happily stacking the plates, completely in her own world. 

“I suppose it’s definitely nice to have someone else to cook for every now and then, yeah.” Rick replies. “I’m pretty sure I’ve lived off more than enough microwave meals and take outs for the rest of my life.” 

Carol throws him her best ‘oh who are you kidding’ look and Rick smiles so hard he can feel the skin wrinkling around his eyes. The dishwasher door clicks shut and Sophia turns to face him again with a serious look. “Mom says you have a boyfriend now,” Rick almost chokes on the mouthful of wine and swallows hastily, coughing a little once it’s gone. He looks at Carol first then flicks his gaze between the two of them, his cheeks on fire. Sophia, thankfully takes after Carol in looks as well as personality, soft features that are always kind. There’s hardly any of that bastard Ed in her face and that grin full of knowledge and childlike innocence stares back at him from both sides. He laughs harder and reaches out a hand to give the youngster a playful shove. “Stop it you two, you’re making me feel like I’m back in highschool.” 

“It’s ok to have a boyfriend. Mr. Clarke, he teaches math in my school, he has a boyfriend and Mom told me that people can love whoever they want to as long as it makes them happy.” She says matter of factly with a nod of her head, her tiny arms crossed over her chest.

“So do you love him then?” Sophia asks him, her smile softening and a little furrow forming between her brows. “Mom told me all about him you know,” She states with all the overflowing pride of a pre-tween included in adult conversations. 

“Sophia!” Carol admonishes from the couch, saving Rick from a fairly uncomfortable conversation, Rick waves it off and turns round to face his young questioner.

“Tell you what Soph,” Rick says pulling her into his side and giving her a squeeze, “I’ll tell you all about it when you’re eighteen yeah?” Her face drops into a childlike pout and both Carol and he let out a soft chuckle of laughter at her face. 

“Honey, go ahead and get yourself washed up for bed and I’ll come tuck you in,” Carol says gently, obviously wanting to get Rick alone for a good catch up. 

“But Mom, I promised to show Rick my new game!” Sophia reminds her and Rick tilts his head and lifts his brows at Carol, waiting for the go ahead. 

“Alright, fifteen minutes.  _ Then  _ I want you washed up, teeth brushed and straight into bed deal?” Sophia’s face changes so quick from pouty to joyful that Rick feels a rush of affection for the youngster and her mother. He quickly finishes his wine, follows her to her bedroom and spends the next fifteen minutes sitting awkwardly on a bean bag in the middle of an extremely purple room listening to her explain the rules and not really understanding it at all. It makes her happy though, to spend time with him and he wonders if she misses out, not having a father figure around the house. Not that Ed was ever a good one, in his mind she’s better off with just Carol raising her rather than having a cancer like her father looming over her. He wishes he’d had this for him and Lori once upon a time, family dinners and being dragged into the kids rooms afterwards to be shown the latest toy craze or talk over homework. When Carol calls out that her time is up, he pushes himself up to standing and gives himself a mental scolding. Now is not the time to become maudlin. His life is better than it has been in years and he hasn’t missed Lori at all lately. He’s just pining after the kind of life he’d planned out for himself, just because it hasn’t worked out that way, doesn’t mean it won’t be one filled with love and happiness. 

Once Sophia is safely tucked up in bed with a film playing on low, Carol pours him another glass of wine and they both sit at either end of the sofa with their knees up on the cushion and their faces turned towards each other, Carol finally starts asking the questions she’s quite clearly been holding back the entire evening. 

“So, have you slept with him yet?” She grins and takes a sip of her wine, her eyes watching his face over the rim of the glass. No doubt checking for any hints. 

“Carol!” Rick says with mock shock, he’s fooling no one, he could’ve put money on that being her first question. She just raises her eyebrows at him in reply. “No, I haven’t Jesus Carol he’s only been out of the hospital a few weeks.” God has it only been a few weeks? He thinks to himself suddenly. 

“And? It all works doesn’t it? Please tell me you’ve done  _ something _ ?” She frowns and Rick holds a hand out in a halting gesture. 

“Yeah, we’ve done  _ something _ ,” Rick starts. “And no, you’re not getting a blow by blow.” They both laugh at the same time, Carol almost sloshing her wine out of her glass as her body shakes. 

By the time he leaves Carol and Sophia for the night, Rick feels as though he’s been through some sort of emotional inquisition. Carol had questioned him for almost two hours and he’s pretty sure by this point she knows more about his new relationship with Daryl than he knows himself. She has a wonderful way of reading between the lines and seeing the truth no matter how adeptly hidden it might be and Rick is left with the feeling, not for the first time, that Carol would’ve made an excellent police officer. He left her with a promise that he would introduce her to Daryl properly before long and remembered at the last moment to pass on Daryl’s thanks for watching over him during his stay in the hospital which, of course she shrugged off as nothing. 

                                                                                                     *

Thoughts of Daryl follow Rick to his bed that night, as he lies there in his darkened room he tries to think about just how long it’s been since he felt this attracted to another person, since someone made his blood heat as much as Daryl does. It’s been years no doubt, if anyone can even begin to compare. There’s a remarkable difference between being a kid and becoming infatuated with someone when you’re full of the vigours of youth to the intense feeling you get as an adult. Now though, his mind handily replays the night Daryl spent in his bed and there’s no hope in hell of him ignoring the way his cock fills at the memory of Daryl’s skin underneath his fingers, or the smell of him on his sheets. Rick wrestles his pajama bottoms off quickly, the waistband catching on his half hard cock on the way down. As it springs back against his skin it hardens further when he resettles himself under the covers he starts to experiment by pulling his cock away from his body and letting slap back against himself. It feels  _ amazing _ , that sudden jolt of pleasure that comes with the contact. It makes him think about what it would be like to be kneeling behind Daryl, to tap his cock against Daryl’s firm ass. He does it again, this time following it up with a light tug on his balls. Tonight is about exploring himself, he never really had much of a chance too before. As a teen it was all about getting off as fast as possible. Then there was Lori who didn’t like him jerking off or watching porn and she was never really one to experiment in the bedroom. Then of course the divorce happened and he lost interest in it completely, only going through the motions, reverting back to his teen antics whenever he’d left it too long. Now though, now he’s going to be doing this to another man,  _ with  _ another man and it only feels right to find out exactly what sort of thing really turns him on. 

Rick rubs the palm of his hand up and down the underside of his cock, dipping lower to rub against his balls and even lower still, dragging a finger across his perineum. He had expected there to be  _ something,  _ some sort of sensation connected to that part of him but it just feels like the usual skin-on-skin, a little exciting because of it’s location he guessed but nothing to get worked up about. He travels back up to handle the root of his dick, his other hand sweeping in a gentle motion down his chest at the same time, tracing his muscles and lightly dusting over a nipple on the way.  _ Yes _ , nipples are definitely a turn on for him. He plays with one, rolling it lightly and enjoying the little sparks that travel down to his cock. He pinches it, then pinches it harder. That sends a spike of pleasure through his stomach and a little drop of precome hits the tight black curls just below his navel. Rick looks down as he feels the wet seep into his skin and out of pure curiosity he swipes at it and presses it between his thumb and forefinger, watching the fluid stretch out as he pulls the digits apart before bringing it to his mouth and tasting himself. 

It’s not an unpleasant taste, Rick decides after a moment of it sitting on his tongue. Definitely something he could get used to. He wonders idly what Daryl tastes like, gripping himself tight around the base he rubs a thumb underneath the swollen head as he imagines what it would be like to feel Daryl’s cock pressing down on his tongue, to feel that sticky fluid leaking out onto his lips. His hips lift off the bed, his ass cheeks clenching as the wave of lust rushes through him just thinking about sucking Daryl off. 

Rick plants his feet and opens his legs a little wider, kneading his balls with the heel of his hand, the fingers of his other moving across his chest to play with his neglected nipple. He twists it firmly right off the bat, knowing already how fucking good it feels. His cock twitches at the sensation and at the same time he can feel a newer sensation, something he’s either not noticed before or hasn’t ever happened. He twists again, hard and  _ yes _ not only does his cock leak onto his stomach again but he can feel the way his ass clenches. Rick closes his eyes and concentrates on the feeling, tugging on his nipple and rubbing his thumb over the slit of his cock to collect the droplets and drag them down the pulsing vein running down his length to ease the way. He feels bold suddenly, encouraged by these moments of sexual discovery he’s giving into and with a soft sigh he rolls over, reaches into his bedside table and grabs the bottle of lube he’s stashed away there. 

With slick fingers, Rick teases himself again, leaving his cock out for now lest he get too close too quickly. Instead he uses one hand to grab hold of himself, balls tight and drawn up within his wide palm, pressing down onto the root of his cock and allows his lubed fingers to travel lower. He tries rubbing his perineum in circular strokes pressing softly at first, then progressively harder. He’s absolutely sure that he read somewhere you can massage the prostate from here with a little pressure in the right place and he’s determined to find out if he can. After a few minutes of poking around and his cock starting to lose interest he gives up and reaches lower, letting his fingertips pass lightly over his entrance instead. 

“Fuck!” Rick huffs out into his dark and otherwise silent room. It’s the first sound he’s made since he climbed into bed and it brings his attention to just how heavily he’s breathing, it’s bordering on panting really and he’s surprised at himself. He’s already so worked up that he’d completely shut out the world, his focus narrowed down to his hands, thoughts of Daryl and his own flesh between his palms. But fuck it all, that felt good. He rubs across his clenching hole a little harder this time, pressing the tip of one finger into the middle and feels the skin pulse in time with the dripping, twitching of his cock. 

Rick reaches out to what he now thinks of as ‘Daryl’s side of the bed’ and grabs the unused pillow there, shoving it underneath his hips to raise his ass up and give himself a little more room to work on himself. He wraps a hand around his cock once more and begins to stroke, slowly, with his lip caught between his teeth because he’s picturing Daryl sleeping over again and knowing that he’s using Daryl’s pillow to help get himself off. He groans as he feels the thick veins pulsing under his palm as he spreads the excess precome down his shaft and twists around the flared head with the tips of his fingers on the way up. He lets his other hand travel back down and circles his hole again, loving the feeling of the corresponding pulsing and twitching in both his ass and his cock as he presses against himself gently. His finger is slick enough that with a little bit of pressure it pushes in past the tight ring of muscle and he freezes.

It’s tight and feels more uncomfortable than he thought it would but he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he pushes further inside, trying to give himself time to adjust and relax. He leaves his finger where it is and starts stroking himself again, a little quicker, a little harder. On the third stroke he feels himself loosen up and starts working his digit in and out in a smooth, rhythmic motion. 

_ “ _ Shit,” Rick groans as he pushes his hips up, thrusting into the tight circle of his fist and the position forces his finger in deeper.  _ Fuck that feels fucking good. _ He retreats just enough to press a second finger in alongside the first, ignoring the slight burning sensation that comes with the extra stretch and twists his wrist a little in an attempt to find a comfortable angle. As his fingers dip deeper, filling him up to the second knuckle, the heel of his thumb presses against his perineum in such a way that it makes his thigh muscles spasm. He pushes down harder and finds what he couldn’t earlier, the fingers inside his stretched hole, the pressure on his prostate from the outside and the rapid fucking of his fist has him bordering on whimpering and all at once he’s right on the goddamn edge. He suddenly pictures Daryl’s head between his thighs, Daryl's fingers being the ones filling his ass and those blue eyes staring up at him in wonder. All at once Rick’s holding his cock in a death grip as it showers his chest and stomach with come, his ass clenches so tight around his fingers that it’s almost painful and his thighs jerk and quiver wildly, like they’re rigged up to some sort of muscle contracting electrical therapy machine. 

It takes him a good long time to get his limbs and his breathing under control. By the time he’s able to slowly withdraw his fingers from himself and let go of his cock, his knees have fallen open, dead weight like the muscles have atrophied and his arms feel as though they’re made of jello. He lays there, panting and trying desperately to reintroduce some sort of moisture to his desert-dry mouth until he can finally feel the tips of his fingers and his upper lip again where numbness had taken over, before shakily pulling himself out of bed in search of something he can use to clean up with. 

One very important thing he learnt about himself tonight is that he desperately wants to try that again and next time he wants it to be Daryl’s fingers inside him, rather than his own.

                                                                                                    *

When he finally makes his way to Daryl's place after a very long and boring day directing traffic and issuing tickets once more, washed and changed out of his uniform and into an outfit that Carol had once referred to as ‘devastating’, Daryl is already waiting for him out on the porch. The first thing Rick notices is that Daryl looks incredible in just simple jeans and a loose fitting white shirt with rolled up sleeves and enough buttons undone to show off that tiny little patch of wispy hair between his pectorals. Rick licks his lips without even realising before he notices that Daryl is no longer wearing the cumbersome walking cast and he raises his eyebrows in surprise as he makes his way out of his car. 

“It’s off?” Rick asks as he climbs the small steps up to the wooden porch standing arms length away from Daryl who is leaning against the side of the house with his crutch resting against the wall beside him. 

“Mhm,” Daryl shrugs, glancing down at his foot. “Had PT today, guy told me I can take it off fer a few hours a day but I gotta use the stick.” When Daryl looks up, his eyes travel up Rick’s body slowly, flicking from his boots to his hips, over the bag of groceries in his hand, to the little open V at the base of his throat and finally his mouth before focusing on his eyes. And  _ God _ just a once over from him manages to set Rick’s blood on fire. His plans to cook a nice meal for Daryl suddenly seem like a complete waste of precious time. The idea of just dragging Daryl into the bedroom and skipping ahead to the good stuff rapidly becoming more and more appealing. 

“Hey,” Rick finally manages, stepping forward and wrapping a hand along Daryl’s jaw, his fingers anchoring themselves in the soft, clean hair as he leans in and captures Daryl’s lips. As soon as he feels Daryl's tongue gently swiping across his mouth Rick’s fingers let lose their hold on the groceries, the bag hits the floor with a muted thump and he’s suddenly glad that there’s nothing breakable in there. His free hand lands on Daryl’s hip like an unstoppable magnet and he takes another step closer until their bodies touch and Daryl snakes one hand around to the small of Rick’s back, the other rests on the side of the house, bracing him and keeping him upright. Rick wonders idly, as Daryl’s tongue probes past his lips and tangles with his own, whether kissing Daryl will ever be just that. Or will it always feel as though Rick is losing control, like he wants to drag Daryl to the ground and get lost in each other until they are sweating and spent. He nips at Daryl’s bottom lip lightly, feels the sharp little jolt of surprise he gets in response and starts to wonder whether Daryl feels the same way about him as he does. The fingers splayed lightly along his back tense and clutch the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepens, tugging it the cotton and pulling it tight around his stomach and that’s all the answer Rick really needs right now. 

It’s Daryl who breaks the kiss eventually, shifting his weight and drawing attention to his slight discomfort at being pressed against the house and having to put pressure on his busted leg. Rick pulls away regretfully, laying two chaste kisses on the beauty mark at the edge of Daryl’s lips before he moves, bending down to pick up the bag at his feet and smirking at Daryl when he rights himself. 

“I brought dinner,” Rick says with a smile, holding up the bag as evidence. “Carol gave me a few new recipes, she says ‘hi’ by the way and has ordered me to introduce you two properly soon,” he chatters as he leads the way into the house through to the kitchen. Daryl follows at a slower pace, leaning heavily on his crutch and limping more than he has been lately. Rick slows his feet and pulls out a kitchen chair as soon as they enter, nodding with a mock stern look for Daryl to sit. “Sophia wanted to know pretty much everything about you,” he continues as he starts emptying the bag and boiling the kettle for the spaghetti. It’s a basic meal but one he already knows Daryl likes. “If I didn’t know you two haven’t met yet I’d say she has a crush on you already.” Daryl laughs at this and Rick shoots him a grin over his shoulder. 

“Was thinkin ‘bout doin’ a cookout end of the week,” Daryl says. “Some o’the guys down the garage like ta come out here with a few beers n’ spend the evenin every month or so. Reckon your Carol n’ her lil’ girl’d wanna come?” 

Rick turns his back to the stove, leaning against the side and facing Daryl, letting the water come to the boil before answering. “I dunno, yeah I’m sure they would but I don’t know if a cookout with a bunch of guys drinking beer is such a good idea for a little girl. I mean, Sophia can be a little shy around new faces and of course, I told you her father was a drunkard,” Rick frowns a little but Daryl doesn’t look too bothered.

“Ain’t nothin like that, naw. S’normally pretty quiet. Figured I’d invite Jim so’s he can get ta know some of the lads, Morales usually comes n’ he’s got himself a couple a’kids too. Reckon they might get on alrigh’,” Daryl shrugs a little and chews on the corner of his lip again. Rick has to turn back to the meal prep again before he abandons it altogether and just kisses the shit out of Daryl right there at the kitchen table. 

“Then yeah, I  _ know _ they’d love to come. I’ll call her tomorrow and let her know.” Rick sends another smile over his shoulder and gets stuck into cooking. Daryl and he chat easily while Rick cooks and he can feel eyes on him as he darts back and forth along the counters and once or twice he turns quick enough to catch Daryl checking out his ass. It makes him grin, makes his hips sway a little to unheard music and his face heat up as he moves. 

“Did ya bring an overnight bag?” Daryl asks after they’ve finished and are both cleaning away the plates, their bodies winding around one another like perfect poetry in the small space. Rick attempts, and fails to hold back a self-satisfied smirk at the question. 

“If I said yes, would you think I was being presumptuous?” Rick teases, leaning back against the counter, trying hard to look completely relaxed and not at all on the edge as he ignores the subtle way his cock fills within its confines. 

Daryl makes that little snort noise that Rick loves so fucking much and walks over, caging Rick against the kitchen side with an arm braced either side of his waist. Daryl leans in and sucks in a deep breath, his nose almost buried in Rick’s neck, smelling the skin below his ear. It makes Rick’s head lift towards the ceiling and his hips push forward just slightly, his palms on the counter behind him and elbows locked to keep him standing because it is quite possibly the most erotic thing he’s ever felt.  

“I’d think ya were pretty fuckin clever,” Daryl whispers softly. His voice is quiet, Rick can hear the subtle tremor hidden in it and wonders whether it’s nerves, anticipation or just a build up of the undeniable sexual tension that seems to surround them constantly. “N’ I reckon ya oughta go fetch it.” 

Rick considers just grabbing it later, pulling Daryl close and getting things started right now, right here in the kitchen. When Daryl lets a low rumble that sounds very close to a growl of frustration Rick thinks better of it and slips out from within Daryl’s arms, reaching a hand down to readjust himself before heading out to the car as fast as he can. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff and Thangs happen :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for leaving you with a cliffhanger last time! I hope you all enjoy this update. I can't tell you all how much I wanted to post this on Thursday, then again yesterday. I'm rather impressed by my restraint to be honest! 
> 
> Only 3 more chapters left after this one and then my tale is done!

Daryl’s bedroom is easily the biggest room in the whole cabin and Rick wonders how, after spending so many days here, he hadn’t realized the sheer size of it before now. It’s not like he’s been in here before, he thinks as he stands just inside the threshold. The only glance he’d had before now is a very narrowed view of a dark dresser every time he’d passed by and the door was open a crack. The room clearly runs the entire length of the cabin with windows down the exterior side and a slightly slanted ceiling. It’s not decorated in the same rustic style as the rest of the house either, not airy and light like the kitchen or outside brought in like the living room. This room is, for want of a better word, a man’s room. If you opened an internet page on ‘bachelor bedrooms’ Rick’s pretty sure there’d be a photo of Daryl's room on the first page. 

The walls are painted in a deep rich blue that matches the darkest flecks of colour scattered throughout Daryl’s iris’, the window frames painted in off-white which stands out against the blue walls making each opening a feature in its own right. The floor is covered with oak planks; stained to a darkened shade, not enough to make the room feel smaller but just enough to make it feel expensive. Rick can tell its real hardwood, not the cheaper laminated stuff after taking just a few steps inside. Daryl no doubt laid each panel down by hand and that level of commitment to his personal space is impressive, the most Rick ever managed in his own room was to buy a new set of curtains when he’d somehow managed to pull the previous blind down in a fit of rage. 

At one end of the vast room there’s a sofa that complements the colors of the walls, covered with a thick grey blanket that looks soft and big enough to cover the entire bed. And at the other end, of course, the bed itself. It’s big; bigger than Rick’s back at his tiny apartment most likely a queen or california king, with a dark wooden frame and soft grey sheets covering it. Rick’s eyes scan the walls, taking in the odd little bits of decoration that are a far cry from what you’d normally expect to find in a bedroom. The large selection of wooden planks above the bed that look like an extended headboard but have an abstract white painted mural on it, the branches that are scattered around, affixed to the wall with belts hanging from them and one large one that acts like a sort of wardrobe with Daryl’s clothes on hangers dangling from it. 

“C’mon,” Daryl says as he nudges Rick out of the doorway and wraps a hand around the overnight bag dangling from his fingers. “Or ya gonna just stand there checkin out ma bed?” 

Rick gives him a playful shove as he passes, releasing his grip on the bag and watching Daryl move as he walks across the room and drops it down on the floor before sitting heavily on the sofa. He nods for Rick to join him, holding out one of two beers he’d carried in with him. 

“Did you make it?” Rick asks as he takes the beer and the other end of the sofa, toeing off his shoes as soon as he’s seated. He pulls his socks off too, they’re a new pair and the cuffs are uncomfortably tight around his ankles. Rick looks down at the plush grey rug that feels so good under his feet, it’s soft and thick and he wiggles his toes into the fibers. 

“The rug?” Daryl asks which makes Rick snort unattractively, the mouthful of beer tickling the back of his throat and threatening to come out of his nose.

“No,” Rick finally manages after he’s wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The bed and the thing above it,” he says with a vague wave of his hand in the direction of the bed. 

“Nah. Axel did that,” Daryl says, nodding at the artwork. “Fancied ‘imself a bit of an artist fer a while. I sorted him out a job, he gave me that. No fuckin’ idea what it’s meant ta be.” Rick squints his eyes and tilts his head at the painting, trying to work out what it is. “The bed’s from craigslist,” he smirks as he lifts the bottle to his lips, glancing at Rick out of the corner of his eye. For some reason it’s so unexpected that someone like Daryl uses something as mundane as craigslist that Rick’s left with his mouth hanging open as he stares back at him. 

Daryl finishes his mouthful and places his bottle down on the floor between Rick’s bag and the edge of the sofa then turns to face the man beside him. The look on his face is so intense all of a sudden that Rick swallows his mouthful and reaches down to rid himself of his own bottle. The atmosphere thickens so quickly; it’s almost as if someone has flicked a switch that’s sucked the calm, even, wood-scented air out and pumped in something strained and bulging with intensity. A second, that’s all it took. Just one second to go from an easy conversation between friends to ‘if I can’t feel your skin underneath my fingers right now I’ll lose my mind’. 

Rick leans in and Daryl meets him in the middle like the move was premeditated. It’s a heated kiss right from the get go with Rick’s hands wandering over Daryl’s chest, slipping into the open space and feeling how warm the skin is there. Daryl’s own hands wrap around Rick’s neck, one set of fingers winding softly around the base of his neck and the others tangling in the curls at the back of his scalp. Rick shivers, the heat underneath his own hands coupled with the tingling warmth of Daryl’s sending waves of sensation through him and speeding his heart rate up. He can feel the flutter of Daryl’s heartbeat underneath his palms as it begins to race and he wonders whether it’s nerves or just the fact that Daryl wants this as much as he does. 

“We ain’t doin’ this on a sofa Rick,” Daryl breaths against Rick’s wet lips, his breathing already running rapid and laden. Rick leans back and tries to grin but the adrenaline running through him makes his lips feel a little numb and he’s not sure he can make his mouth work properly. Instead, he pushes up from the sofa and holds a hand out to help Daryl stand. They make it over to the bed without ripping each others clothes off but it’s a close thing and Rick works on his own shirt as he walks. He pushes it off his shoulders and gets to work on his jeans, not interested in leaving it all for Daryl to do. Then it’s just him standing beside Daryl’s bed in his underwear, half hard cock making its interest perfectly clear as Daryl watches him with a little half smile and a raised eyebrow. Rick shrugs, so what if he looks eager, he’s about to have sex with Daryl  _ finally  _ after all this time and he doesn’t want to waste a moment. Daryl chuckles and it’s a beautiful sound that Rick wishes he could hear more often. It’s rich and warm and feels like a low rumble of approval. He lays himself down on the bed and watches as Daryl carefully starts to unbutton his own shirt, peeling the white fabric away almost cautiously before sliding it off his shoulders and throwing it over in the direction of the sofa. Rick moves when Daryl begins to work his own jeans open, shifting over so that he can bat Daryl’s hands away and do it for himself. He’s been thinking about this a lot, since having Daryl in his bed in fact. What he would taste like and what it would feel like to have another man’s cock in his mouth. Daryl watches as Rick drags the zip on his jeans, opening up the placket and pushing the thick denim down, over Daryl’s ass and to his ankles. Rick swings his legs around so that he’s sitting right on the edge of the bed, Daryl between his spread knees with his bulging cock at the perfect height for Rick’s mouth. 

Like a cat, Rick leans forward and rubs his face along the length of Daryl, still confined behind dark underwear that’s fitted and tight enough to show off the exact shape of his cock which is only growing the more Rick moves his face along it. He’s fairly sure he hears a soft whine from above when he moves away and pushes his fingers underneath the thick elastic waistband but when he looks up at Daryl’s face, he’s not sure. He looks part terrified, part hopeful as he stares down at Rick. His blue eyes are almost black with arousal, a faint pink flush high across his sharp cheekbones but his eyebrows are pinched in a small frown. 

“You alright?” Rick asks, pausing with his hands around Daryl’s hips, fingers still inside his underwear. Daryl nods, looking a little overwhelmed actually and Rick pushes down, pulling the fabric with him until Daryl’s cock springs free and he’s left bare and beautiful before Rick’s eyes. “Remember, anything you don’t like,” Rick says, running his hands up the backs of Daryl’s thighs as he speaks in a voice no louder than a whisper. “Just you go ahead and tell me and we’ll stop and do somethin’ else.” He looks up at Daryl again then, making sure he’s put his point across before putting a hand on the base of the thickening cock before him. It takes him less than a second to lean forward and plant one singular kiss just under the crown of Daryl's cock and the noise he hears is most definitely a soft whimper. That cures Rick of any nerves of his own he may have been feeling and he takes Daryl into his mouth before he can offer any sort of protest. He’s mindful to watch his teeth by covering them with his tongue as he slides down a little further. He knows it’s not anywhere near graceful, he’s had no experience of doing this to another person before but he does remember what he used to be like when Lori would go down on him and of course he’s no stranger to porn either, even if he hasn’t really been interested in it for a while. He focuses on how Daryl feels, thick and hard as a rock sliding across his tongue. He tries hollowing his cheeks to add a little extra suction and Daryl’s hands fly to the back of his head. Rick backs off just enough that the tip brushes against his lips before sliding back down and sucking hard again. 

“Jesus Rick!” Daryl groans, his fingers fluttering across Rick's scalp like he desperately wants to either tug him closer or push him away. Rick pulls off fully this time but leaves one hand around the base as he looks back up at Daryl's face again. 

“Okay?” Rick asks but he’s not completely sure whether he’s asking if Daryl is ok or whether what he’s doing is ok. It’s pretty irrelevant either way because Daryl pushes him back onto the bed and quickly crawls on top of him, pinning him to the sheets and attacking the skin at the base of Rick’s throat. He slowly starts to grind his hips down into Rick, kissing and licking along Rick’s neck, down across his collarbones and back up until his nose brushes against Rick’s ear lobe.

“Yeah,” Daryl finally says, it’s rough and hoarse and sends a shiver through Rick to hear Daryl sounding so wrecked already from what has to have been a mediocre attempt at a basic blowjob by a complete novice. 

They slow things down a little then, Rick lets his hands wander over the scarred expanse of Daryl’s shoulders, his palms skating along the ridged skin, tracing patterns as Daryl slowly rocks into him and presses his lips softly along Rick’s collar bones. He tilts his head, giving Daryl more room to move up along his neck and nuzzle underneath his jaw. Rick can feel the warm puffs of Daryl’s breath against his skin and it makes him feel over sensitive as he fights back a shudder that’s half arousal, half ticklish. He chuckles and squirms a little when Daryl runs his tongue over the same spots. Rick lets his hands wander down to Daryl’s ass and cups him, squeezing the flesh there a little and feeling the strong body press down onto him harder. He can feel Daryl hard against him as he moves and he wants to feel skin on skin so, with a gentle shove Rick manages to get his hands underneath him and starts tugging on his own boxers, trying to work them off until Daryl realizes what he’s doing and leans back on his knees, grabs hold of them and pulls them off; throwing them onto the bedroom floor. 

Daryl’s eyes are darker than Rick has ever seen them before but he still looks a little bit nervous, Rick doesn’t blame him, his own stomach is churning and his skin prickles with anxious energy and anticipation for what they’re about to do. Daryl tentatively runs his hands over Rick’s knees, brushing his palms slowly up his thighs until his fingertips briefly touch the ridge of his hips then work their way back down, this time cupping the insides of Rick’s thighs. He closes his eyes and his head drops back onto the bed behind him only to shoot back up and stare down at Daryl who is now running one hand up the length of Rick’s cock with his lip caught between his teeth, eyeing Rick up like he’s a snake about to strike. Rick is just about to tell him that he doesn’t need to suck him, but before he even gets the words out Daryl is running an exploring tongue up the underside of his cock and Rick groans so loud it’s almost embarrassing to hear. 

When Daryl takes the tip of Rick into his mouth and sucks, Rick thinks his chest may cave in under the pressure of holding his breath so tight and the thundering of his heart against his rib cage. He hasn’t had warm lips around him in years and the fact that it’s Daryl running his tongue around the crown of his dick makes his head swim. It’s everything he’s fantasised about lately and everything he hadn’t ever admitted to himself that he wanted since they were kids. Daryl’s inexperience is clear in the way his hands move haltingly and he doesn’t seem too sure about what to do with the one not wrapped around the base, so Rick reaches out and pulls Daryl’s hand up to his chest, placing it across one of his nipples and arching into the touch and Daryl’s mouth at the same time. Rick moans again, letting that captured breath shoot out in a rush when Daryl’s fingers begin to toy with his nipple, his cock jumps in response and his hands start grasping at the bed sheets beside him as he tries not to cant his hips and push himself deeper into Daryl’s mouth. 

Daryl continues to stroke the base with a firm grip, twisting up the shaft until his knuckles meet his lips and then travel back down again. Rick watches as Daryl increases the suction, experimenting and his cheeks, C _ hrist,  _ his cheeks hollow out and make his cheekbones stand out so much they look unreal. When Daryl pulls off and gently nips the nerve filled underside of his cock Rick nearly shouts and his hands fly up to grip hold of Daryl’s shoulders to stop him. He wants to do more than just get themselves off with hands and mouths this time and if he lets Daryl carry on he’s afraid he won’t be able to last as long as he wants. 

“Dammit Daryl,” Rick rasps and attempts a grin when Daryl looks up the length of his body with questioning eyes. “You’re good at that, so damned good you gotta stop okay?” He tugs Daryl, pulling him back up until he’s pressing Rick down again and they kiss, hot and heavy and full of want. Rick can taste himself on Daryl’s tongue and he sucks on it lightly before working his lips across Daryl’s jaw and pressing upwards, rubbing his dick across Daryl’s abs and rutting alongside Daryl’s own cock at the same time. 

“Daryl?” Rick says into Daryl’s shoulder and gets a questioning hum in response. “Will you, I mean, I want you to finger me,” Rick blushes wildly when Daryl stills, his breath catching and fingers tightening against Rick’s ribs. 

“Y’sure Rick?” Daryl asks in a broken voice, like he can’t believe Rick just asked him that. 

“Please?” Is all Rick can say. He can feel his thighs shaking and his palms beginning to sweat as his heart begins to race even faster. “I brought lube and condoms,” Rick adds hurriedly as Daryl pulls back and looks down at him. “They’re in my-”

“I got some,” Daryl cuts him off and reaches into the bedside table. Rick watches the way Daryl's torso twists as he moves, sharp muscles look even more defined and Rick runs his hands over the indents that scatter his body, fingers drifting up to tug on both of Daryl’s nipples as he rummages through the draw with one hand, holding himself up on the bed with the other. 

“Shit, do that again, Rick,” Daryl says pulling a thin, dark bottle of lube back with him and a silver wrapped condom between two fingers. He hovers above Rick pressing his chest into Rick’s wandering hands and moans, dipping his head when Rick rubs his fingertips over his nipples and tugs on them gently. Daryl’s hips jerk forcefully and catch Rick in just the right way to make him throb out a little drop of precome onto his stomach. 

Rick grabs onto Daryl’s hand and tightens around the bottle of lube, squeezing in reassurance. “Please?” he asks, pushing gently downwards until Daryl’s hand is resting between his thighs. Rick relaxes his legs, letting his knees drop to the side and making space as Daryl settles back onto his thighs and slicks up his fingers. 

“Rick, I...” Daryl stalls, teeth working the flesh on the inside of his mouth, eyebrows pinched in a frown and his eyes trained on Rick’s stomach. 

“It’s ok, just go slow, start with one and use as much lube as you need, okay?” Rick soothes, leaning forward and running his hands up Daryl’s arms and across his shoulders. He cups Daryl around the back of his neck and dips his head to catch Daryl’s gaze. “I want this, do you?” he asks when Daryl finally meets his eye and is reassured when Daryl nods. 

Rick starts to close his eyes when Daryl pulls his leg up, bending it at the knee and starts to run two fingertips over his taint and across his entrance. He quickly decides to open them again, offering Daryl the reassurance of locking eyes with him and holds his gaze when Daryl’s finger gently presses against him, even though his eyelashes flutter. He nods again and Daryl pushes his finger in gently just past the tip. It feels better than it had when it was his fingers, there’s a low level tingle that runs up Rick’s thighs as Daryl’s finger works it’s way deeper and turns in a half circle, pulling out and pressing back in again, more insistently this time. 

“Jesus Rick, how are we gonna make this work?” Daryl asks, staring down with heated eyes at where his finger disappears into Rick’s body. Rick smiles, then groans when Daryl presses in deep enough that his knuckles push against his taint. 

“Add another finger,” Rick rasps after a few minutes of Daryl slowly working him past his initial tension, until he's lying flat on the bed once more. Daryl pulls out then follows Rick’s instructions, stretching him wide enough to take two. Rick tenses again slightly then breathes out steadily, Daryl’s fingers are much thicker than his own and he can feel the slight burn as he clenches unconsciously. “It’s ok, just….takes a second,” Rick says hastily when he sees the frown across Daryl’s brow again.    
  
Daryl uses his free hand to run his palm up the length of Rick’s cock, cupping his fingers around the shaft and tugging gently and Rick instantly relaxes, loosening up enough that Daryl’s fingers slip in past the second knuckle. “God that feels good Daryl, perfect. Now you gotta-” Rick motions vaguely with his own hand, holding it out for Daryl to watch him mimicking the stretching, scissoring motion with his own fingers. “Then twist it and, yeah,” Rick moans and arches a little when Daryl copies the movement and adds a little twist. His fingers turn inside Rick and when he grinds down onto Daryl's hand, knuckles brush against Rick’s prostate and his stomach twists, his cock pulses out some more precome and the sound that spills from his lips is desperate and needy. Daryl makes a hungry, almost whimpering noise and drops forward, letting go of Rick’s cock and reaching back up his body to rub a thumb over a nipple. He rests his head against Rick’s stomach, kissing the skin while he starts to  _ really _ finger him. Rick can feel Daryl’s hot breath panting out against his skin, cooling slightly before it washes over his cock and it twitches again when Daryl presses against his prostate repeatedly. 

“Rick, I gotta...I gotta do somethin,” Daryl breathes, rutting into the mattress with a few rolls of his hips, obviously rubbing his own dick into the quilt. 

“Shit Daryl, okay. Just, just add another real quick,” Rick pants, he’s not sure two fingers is going to be enough but when Daryl pulls back and adds a third finger the burn is even more intense. Rick hisses and squeezes his eyes shut, digging his fingernails into the sheets beside him and Daryl pauses, waiting for Rick to start breathing again. He hears Daryl make a noise somewhere between a gasp and a groan when he experimentally tightens his muscles around Daryl’s fingers, like the perfect mixture of pain and desperation and Rick tentatively wiggles his hips. The movement allows him to rock against the digits inside him a little and it helps him relax enough for Daryl to start moving. Not that he does, when Rick opens his eyes and looks down his body, Daryl is propping himself up on one arm and just staring at the place his fingers disappear into Rick’s body with a look of rapture on his face and little beads of sweat dripping from his hairline and across his temples.  

“Daryl?” Daryl’s eyes tear away from his fingers and look up at Rick, his eyelids are dipped low and there are little lines around his eyes where they’ve become tight with effort. Rick realizes that Daryl is trembling, he’s propping himself up on his bad shoulder and Rick feels like a complete asshole for having Daryl, who’s still suffering with his healing injuries, in such a strenuous position. “Take them out,” Rick adds, not even caring that Daryl had only just about stretched him wide around his three fingers. 

Daryl withdraws his fingers slowly, carefully trying not to cause Rick any pain and he looks terrified, like he’s done something wrong. Rick winces as the digits retreat, the discomfort and feeling of his muscles clenching around nothing, trying to tighten back up again, is enough for him to miss the little look of horror that flickers across Daryl's face as he pulls away to sit back on his knees once more. 

“M’sorry, didn’ mean ta hurt ya, Rick,” Daryl starts to apologize and Rick looks back up at him. He takes in the frown on Daryl's face; the widened eyes, the lip that’s caught between his teeth again and the hurried way that Daryl wipes his slicked up fingers across the covers to clean them. “We can do somethin’ else, ain’t gotta-” Daryl starts but Rick pushes himself up and forward until he’s right up in Daryl’s space. He presses his forehead to Daryl's and cups him around the back of the neck once more, letting his fingers run delicately along the edge of his hairline and his thumb across the sensitive spot behind Daryl’s ear. 

“I don’t wanna do something else Daryl, need you to lie down for me, though,” Rick says, his voice strained enough already that it barely comes out louder than a whisper. Daryl nods once as Rick pulls back and moves over. He lies down in the space Rick vacates, pulling himself up onto the pillows and watches as Rick moves over him, grabs the condom, rolling it on him and uses the discarded lube to slick up Daryl’s red, swollen, almost angrily hard looking cock. Daryl is the one who hisses this time when Rick’s hand rubs the liquid around the flushed head, tracing the sensitive ridge around and then spreading it down Daryl’s shaft. He tightens his grip around the base and Daryl’s thighs tighten, his hips press up into Rick’s hand and his stomach muscles ripple. Rick sucks in a breath as Daryl’s eyes close, pretty eyelashes fluttering. Rick is sure he’s never been quite so desperate for another person in his life and is sure as hell he’s never seen someone spread beneath him that looks quite as stunning as Daryl does right now. Rick slowly continues working the lube up and down Daryl’s cock and smirks when he feels it pulsing under his fingers and hears the rasping little moans that slip out between Daryl’s clenched jaw. He slowly moves up Daryl’s body, still working his hand tortuously slowly and, gripping the base even tighter, Rick slings a leg over Daryl’s body and hovers just enough that he can feel the head of Daryl sliding between his ass cheeks and nudging against his balls. The sensation and movement makes Daryl’s eyes snap open and Rick realizes he’s still smirking down at him. 

“Like this, okay?” Rick asks and Daryl’s hands move to Rick’s hips, holding him gently as if he were a pair of butterfly wings and Daryl is too frightened of taking off too many scales if he grips too tight. He nods and licks his lips, Rick can’t help but let out a little chuckle though he’s not entirely sure whether it’s nerves or a touch of insecurity as he leans forward and moves himself until he can feel Daryl positioned right. “Just try not to move until I say so, ok?”

“Shit, Rick, are ya sure?” Daryl asks breathlessly, his fingers twitch against Rick’s skin and he feels the light press of fingernails until they relax again. He doesn’t even bother answering, just starts to lower himself slowly. His smirk falters and morphs into another grimace as the very tip of Daryl presses inside but he goes as slowly as he can gently rocking lower and lower with each breath. He can’t take his eyes off Daryl’s face, the way the muscles twitch around his mouth, how his eyes seem to struggle to stay open or the deep red flush that spreads like a rip tide across his cheeks as Rick sinks low enough to remove his hand. He leans forward to press his hands on Daryl’s chest and he can feel the frantic thudding of Daryl’s heart under his palms. 

“Ya okay?” Daryl asks when he’s pressed in far enough to chase away the tight, burning feeling. Rick knows his own cheeks are on fire too but this time it’s nothing to do with embarrassment, this time it’s because Daryl’s cock is throbbing inside him and he can feel it. 

“You’ve no idea,” Rick whispers as he starts to move, rubbing back and forth in tiny little movements that set of a multitude of reactions; Daryl grunts, his fingers dig into Rick and pull him down harder, holding him closer. Rick gasps as a current runs the up the inside of his thighs and feels a bead of sweat roll from the base of his neck down between his shoulder blades and it makes him shudder as it runs down the length of his spine. The shudder reverberates between them both and Rick is absolutely ready to move quicker and to feel Daryl pressing into him. He leans forward, bracing his hands by either side of Daryl's head as his hips undulate. He starts moving faster and the pleasure builds higher with every roll of his body. Daryl still looks too terrified to move and Rick leans down to kiss him hungrily, pressing his tongue inside and licking his way in. 

“Move, please Daryl.” Rick moans against Daryl’s mouth. “I need you to-” But he doesn’t even get to finish before one of Daryl’s hands slips it’s way around Rick’s lower back and drags him down even harder and he plants his feet on the bed, fucking up into Rick with devastatingly broken grunts. All Rick can do is fall forward onto Daryl’s chest, the angle changes and Rick can feel Daryl pushing against his prostate hard enough that all the air escapes him in a rush. “Ugh, ugh, ugh,” is all Rick can manage. His dick slides across Daryl’s skin and he realizes the wetness it drags through is his own precome. 

“God fuckin damnit Rick,” Daryl huffs out as he fucks into Rick desperately with juddering hips and clenching fingers. He leans forward and bites the skin on Rick’s shoulder with a moan wrapping both arms around his back now and hugging him even tighter. “Can’t fukin believe this, fuck- Rick ya fuckin’, jus-ugh,” the words come out muddled against Rick’s skin and he’s not sure how much longer he can hold off his orgasm. The feeling of having Daryl,  _ his  _ Daryl fucking into him, of being breached for the first time, sharing their first time together and the rough drag of his cock and the sensitive nerves against Daryl’s skin is overwhelming. Rick had no idea it would feel like this to have Daryl inside him. He had no idea that he could make the sort of noises that are falling from his lips or that Daryl would look so fucking wrecked underneath him. Rick pushes himself up so he can see Daryl’s sweat soaked face and the look of ruin across it. Rick reaches a hand down to his own cock which is wet and slick already from rubbing into his precome and starts to stroke himself in little aborted movements, his fingers tight around the head, pulling himself off frantically until his hips jerk and his thighs begin to quiver.

“Yeah,” Daryl growls looking down at Rick’s hand. “Come on, wanna see what it feels like when ya come, Rick,” And  _ goddamn _ Rick didn’t even know that Daryl had it in him to look at him like that, to fuck him like this and say those sorts of things. He tugs himself faster, feeling the prickling flare of white heat rush through his lower body, signifying the oncoming surge of his orgasm. “You feel so fuckin good, Rick, never knew -  _ God  _ you’re a good...fuck.”

Rick’s hand stills on his length and his hips jerk in time to the pulsing, throbbing of his cock as he starts to come with a shout. His ass tightens around Daryl and it pulls him even deeper setting off another wave of wracking shudders and he’s still fucking coming. “Shit, shit oh holy shit, Daryl” He’s completely wrecked, feels like he’s whiting out as his orgasm takes him over entirely, complete sensory overload. He doesn’t even register the loud gasping moans from the man beneath him because he has  _ never  _ come like this before, it’s like a whole body experience, every single muscle and nerve ending taking part. He falls forward with his hand still wrapped around himself once he’s finished spurting across Daryl’s body and his breathing is so fast he wonders whether this is what it must feel like to hyperventilate. 

Daryl’s hips slow down but Rick doesn’t want him to stop, he wants to make Daryl come as hard as he has. “Don’t stop Daryl, come on,” Rick moans, then begins to nip hard against Daryl’s neck with blunt teeth, plucking at the sweaty skin. Rick finds himself grabbed tight and pushed over onto his back with Daryl leaning above him with a dipped head and closed eyes. He lets his head fall back and drags his palms across Daryl’s back and shoulders as Daryl thrusts into him deep but slowly almost as if he’s teetering on the edge and desperately trying to make it last as long as he can. 

“Please Daryl, please,” Rick begs, he’s starting to feel over sensitive even though his cock isn’t brushing against anything and realizes that it must be the constant pressure against his prostate that is making his hips jerk with every inward thrust. Rick keeps up a low stream of encouragement, of pleas and cuss words and moments before it really does become too much, Daryl pushes in so far that Rick’s thighs feel the strain of how wide they’re being spread and he feels a weird sort of high at the shattered look spreading across Daryl’s face as he comes. Daryl is almost silent while his orgasm runs through him, just a quiet grunting noise and lots of little huffs of air against Rick’s skin where he presses his head into Rick’s shoulder. His heavy weight presses Rick even further into the bed and his body breaks out in tremors so strong they feel as though his entire body is convulsing against Rick’s skin. He runs his palms up and over Daryl’s back, down to his waist and the tops of his ass, over and over again until he feels Daryl’s heart rate settle into a steady rhythm once more. Rick gives him a gentle shove and Daryl immediately pulls away, slowly withdrawing from Rick’s body and flopping down onto the mattress beside him. Rick closes his eyes and just lays there, breathing in the scent of sex and giving himself time to wrap his head around what they’d just done and how fucking good it had felt. He hears Daryl shift beside him and feels him moving, hears the snap of the condom being tied off and discarded and then feels one clammy palm settle right on the bottom of his ribs. 

“Didn’ think first times were supposed ta be like that,” Daryl says after a few quiet minutes. Rick turns his head and finds Daryl watching him with a soft smile that is much more than the usual quirk of his lips. It’s beautiful and Rick beams at him in return, feeling stupid and giddy and like a teenager all over again. “Figured they was awkward n’ dissapointin?” Rick laughs and places one of his hands on top of Daryl’s twining their fingers together.

“I’m guessing it didn’t live up to expectation then?” Rick chuckles because yeah, he’d thought it would be very awkward, fumbling and just a little more than painful. Of course his ass hurts a little, he’ll probably have to take a couple of advil before he goes to bed tonight but it had been far more pleasurable than painful in the end. 

“Fuck, Rick ya kiddin me? Ya damn near blew my fuckin mind,” Daryl leans over to kiss him again and it’s slow, languid,  _ loving _ and feels like a thank you. “Wanna drink?” 

Rick nods and Daryl shoves himself up off the bed with a series of little winces. Rick notices a more pronounced limp as Daryl walks naked and glorious across the room and wonders how sore Daryl will be in the morning. He returns with a glass of water each, his prescription painkillers and hands over a couple of advil for Rick, as if he’d read his mind. Daryl grunts as he lowers himself back onto the bed his knee stiff and obviously favouring his shoulder and Rick promises himself that they’ll take it easy tomorrow as he raises his arms over his head and just relaxes into the feel of post orgasmic bliss and having Daryl by his side. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow people can you believe we're nearly at the end of this story?! This time next week I'll be posting the very last chapter and that will be it! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's still reading, leaving me wonderful comments and to all of you who're still joining the ride as we go along! 
> 
> Thank you again to the wonderful Tweedo for all your help with this fic and for sticking with me as I dragged my heels with some of the chapters!

Rick wakes while it’s still dark outside and he lays as still and quiet as he can manage, keeping his breathing slow and steady as he listens to the soft hoot of a far away owl out in the woods and the gentle rhythm of Daryl's breathing beside him. Daryl is facing away from him, spread out on his side with an arm curled under his pillow but his ankle is hooked over Rick’s and his back is pressed up against Rick’s side almost as if his subconscious had needed those points of contact as he’d slept. Rick turns gently and can just about make out the spread of Daryl's hair across the pillow, the ragged scar tissue across Daryl’s back and how it gleams slightly brighter in the dark than the rest of his skin. The blanket they share is wrapped around Daryl’s hips and Rick reaches out to carefully slide it up until it sits across his ribs instead. As he does, he turns and slides closer underneath the covers as he curls his own body around Daryl’s back. He wraps his arm around Daryl’s waist and slips his leg forward tucking himself fully into the other man’s body.

“Mmmm,” Rick hears Daryl mumble as he settles in behind him and fidgets a little, trying to get the right angle for his head without burying his face into Daryl’s hair. “Ya comfy yet?” Daryl grumbles and Rick chuckles behind him, reaches out and slides a hand along his forearm and twines their fingers together. He’d almost forgotten how wonderful it is to wake up beside someone, to wrap yourself around them and drift back off to sleep, lulled by their breathing and the steady thrum of another heartbeat. 

The next time Rick wakes, it’s to the feel of Daryl quietly slipping out from under his arm and carefully sitting on the edge of the bed before looking back over his shoulder and offering Rick a soft, rumpled smile with crinkled eyes and and a few red creases across his cheek from where he’d been laying on it. 

“Time is it?” Rick asks sleepily, the room is lighter than the last time he’d woken but he’s pretty sure it’s not full daylight outside yet. He can hear the birds and they sound loud, as if there is a giant flock roosting in the trees that sway over the cabin so it must be daybreak, or pretty close to it. 

“‘Bout five,” Daryl says turning and resting one bent knee on the bed. His torso twists and he leans on the bed with one arm. Rick reaches out and cups his hand around Daryl’s knuckles but lets his eyes drift shut again, they feel heavy and he’s pretty sure he could sleep for another few hours at least. “Sleep in, s’ya day off.” Daryl whispers, stroking over the back of Rick’s hand with his thumb. The gentle patterns Daryl traces across Rick’s skin acts like a sedative for his still sleep heavy mind and he doesn’t even wake when Daryl lets him go and slips out of the room.    
  


“Mornin’,” Rick opens his eyes slowly at the sound of Daryl’s voice and the first thing he sees is a mug of coffee, still hot and steaming. Rick pushes himself up and blinks a few times in an attempt to get his eyes to open properly. He rubs the sleep away and takes the offered cup, cradles it in both palms because his fingers don’t quite feel as though they’re ready to wake up just yet. 

“Mhm thanks,” Rick says, sipping gingerly on the coffee expecting it to be boiling hot still but it’s just cool enough for him to drink without scalding his mouth and his lips curl into a soft smile as he drinks because he just knows that Daryl has either added a bit of cold water or left it out for a bit to cool down before bringing it in. He quickly drains half the cup before twisting and setting it down on one of the bedside tables. Rick lays back down and stretches out like a cat, unwinding the knots down his back and waking up the muscles in his arms and legs before curling onto his side and seeing Daryl properly for the first time this morning. 

“You look pleased with yourself,” he says when he catches Daryl’s smirk and the flush across his cheeks. Daryl's eyes flicker down across Rick’s body and as he looks down he figures out exactly what has Daryl smiling like that. The sheets cling to his lower body and it’s clear from the way they fall around his hips that he’s woken up fairly hard. It’s not surprising really, he’s pretty sure he remembers dreaming about Daryl. Yeah that’s right, they’d been hiking through the woods, Daryl had been trying to teach Rick how to track and how to use the crossbow. He’d wrapped his arms around Rick, showing him how to grip the weapon in just the right way and had been speaking quietly into Rick’s ear, his chest pressed into Rick’s back and the hard length of his cock jutting into his ass. God Rick wants that, can’t wait until Daryl is well enough to take him through the woods on a hunting trip. Rick bets that Daryl is absolutely magnificent tracking game through the thickets, swift, silent and damn sexy. 

Thinking about the dream and picturing Daryl out there in the woods doesn’t do anything to help Rick out with his morning erection, if anything it makes it worse and he can feel himself thickening even more.

“Come over here,” Rick says, lifting the covers and tapping a hand on the bed. He licks his coffee stained lips and he knows Daryl sees it because his eyes flicker down to the mattress before he stands at the side of the bed. Daryl’s not wearing anything but a loose pair of sleep pants that hang from his hips and cup his ass and yeah, Rick isn’t the only one that’s feeling the effects of their proximity. He rolls onto his back when Daryl slips into the bed and jumps at the chill when Daryl’s cold feet brush against his calf muscles and a grin spreads across his mouth at Daryl’s soft chuckle.  

Rick feels awkward all of a sudden, lying there on his back while Daryl does the same. They both stare up at the ceiling in silence for a few moments until Daryl wraps an arm around Rick and pulls him into his side. Rick tries to angle his hips away so as not to draw too much attention to the fact that he’s still pretty hard, that is until Daryl reaches his other hand out and pulls Rick into his hip. 

“Wan’ some help wi’ that?” Daryl asks, moving his thigh just enough to generate a little bit of friction against Rick’s cock and that’s pretty much all the invitation he needs to shift himself so that he’s lying across Daryl’s body, lining them both up but with enough room so that his hands can roam over Daryl’s chest and he can bite the skin running the length of Daryl’s throat. It feels perfect, easy and languid as they gently rock into each other. Daryl’s hands reverently caress Rick’s shoulders, down his sides and across the dimples at the base of his spine. Rick cards one hand through Daryl’s messy hair and curls his other hand around Daryl's hip enough to be able to manipulate his ass and force him to arch his hips up. Rick pushes pointedly at Daryl’s bottoms and shifts himself so that Daryl has enough room to slip them off. 

“How’re ya feelin?” Daryl asks massaging the skin of Rick’s ass as he starts to lick the shell of Daryl’s ear. 

“A little sore, nothin’ too bad though thanks to the Advil,” Rick says in a breathy voice between little nips and open mouthed kisses up and down Daryl’s throat and across the very tips of his shoulders. Rick grinds slowly against Daryl. Now that they’re skin on skin it feels so much better. Rick can feel the wiry hair surrounding Daryl’s cock brushing against his own and catching, the prickles rub the length of Rick’s cock and it sends a violent shiver down his spine as he moves. It has a cascading effect and Daryl’s fingers grip a little tighter into the skin of Rick’s ass as Daryl pushes his hips up into Rick’s touch a little more. 

“Jus’ like this okay?” Daryl asks tilting his head back to give Rick’s mouth a little more room. 

“Mhmmm, this is good,” Rick answers. He could probably manage sex again, he’s not  _ that _ sore but still, this is nice and there’s no rush, they have all the time in the world to learn each other. The thought makes Rick smile against Daryl's collarbone.

“Can feel ya grinnin Rick, what’s funny?” Daryl asks and it comes out sort of a growl because Rick chose that exact moment to roll his hips and press down a little firmer. 

“Nothin’ just wondering how long it’ll take to test out all the things I wanna try with ya,” Rick grins, pulling back enough to be able to look Daryl in the eye. Daryl’s pupils are wide and so dark when Rick looks into them that he can’t help the playful grin that creeps across his lips as he leans in to capture Daryl’s mouth in a kiss. It starts off slow and tender but with every roll of Rick’s hips it gets more and more heated until both of them are gasping and Rick feels as though he could come any moment. He pulls back just enough to be able to get a hand between them and wrap it around both of their cocks, stroking them both in time to the now near frantic grinding. 

Daryl goes over first, silent and shuddering, his breath coming in quick pants and gasps as he holds Rick close and digs his short nails into Rick’s hips. Rick follows quickly after using Daryl’s warm come as lube he ruts into the slick while Daryl attacks his neck with quick, sharp bites that make Rick whimper and writhe until he’s spilling all over Daryl’s stomach, mixing their release into both their skin. 

Rick falls heavily onto Daryl’s body, their chests heaving against one another out of sync until Daryl shifts slightly beneath him. Rick pushes himself off and onto the bed so they’re lying side by side and staring up at the ceiling. Daryl reaches an arm out and wriggles it underneath Rick’s shoulders, pulling him closer so their sides are pressed together; a light film of sweat between them. 

“Pretty sure I heard you promise me breakfast earlier, I mean I  _ may _ have dreamt it of course,” Rick says with a teasing tone, breaking out in a full body laugh when he hears Daryl’s little huff of amusement. He pulls Daryl down for another long kiss and has to force himself to pull back and wrench his body out of bed before he instigates another round. Rick has to remind himself that they aren’t horny teenagers anymore and as nice as the idea of staying in bed is, he wants to get out and take a walk around the woods surrounding the cabin. 

When they finally make it out of bed, Rick notes that Daryl has already been up long enough to clean up the mess from last night, brew some pretty amazing coffee and what looks like….

“What is that?” Rick asks as Daryl pulls a casserole dish from the oven and places it on a potholder on the worktop. “Smells amazing!”

“S’breakfast casserole, Merle’s recipe,” Daryl talks quietly as he works, pulling plates and cutlery out and laying them on the kitchen table while Rick just sits back and watches. “Gotta get used ta workin with what ya got n’ we never really had much jus’ canned stuff mostly. Sometimes Merle’d score some sausages n’ shit. Stuff like this s’good cos ya just chuck in whatever ya’ve got n add some eggs, seasonin n’ yer good ta go.” Daryl sits down in the chair beside Rick instead of opposite him as Rick had expected. Rick quirks an eyebrow at him and Daryl grins but just shrugs one shoulder before starting to eat. 

“Oh my God Daryl, it’s good!” Rick just about manages to get out around the mouthful of food he’s still workin on and Daryl snorts. 

“Yeah?” Daryl asks with a lopsided grin and a soft nudge against Rick’s shoulder. “So, got anythin ya wanna do today?” Daryl asks before shovelling a giant forkful of casserole in his mouth. Rick gapes at him, shovelling is definitely the word to use when watching Daryl eat. He’s messy and has pretty much no table manners whatsoever, he wipes his mouth on his sleeve and will more often than not opt to forgo cutlery in favor of his fingers. Rick doesn’t mind, Daryl is who he is and with his upbringing it’s no wonder he guards his plate like someone might steal his food and when he licks his fingers clean, well it’s kinda hard for Rick to focus when he does that. 

“Do you think your leg is up to taking a walk in the woods?” Rick asks cautiously, not wanting to imply that Daryl can’t manage a little hike.

“Mhm,” Daryl grunts around his mouthful, swallowing hard and then looking up at Rick. “Can take ya a lil’ ways I reckon, might havta take the stick but I reckon if we take one o’the trails we should be alrigh’.” 

So that’s what they do. Once breakfast is finished and they both work together easily in the kitchen on clean up, Daryl packs a basic bag filled with some homemade jerky, a few bottles of water and other snacks and they make their way outside. The woods around the cabin start off sparse, with big gaps between the trees that let the breeze flow through them like rolling water and keeps Rick feeling wonderfully cool. 

Despite the fact that Daryl has a bum leg and an arm that still bothers him from time to time he’s still faster and smoother at picking his way along the trail than Rick is. Rick is pretty sure that every single tree root he passes makes a grab for his ankles and Daryl has to turn and steady him more than once, always with a slight hint of a smile and a sparkle in his eye. 

“Ya sure as hell ain’t light on yer feet Grimes,” Daryl says with a low chuckle as he helps pick Rick off the ground where his boot had caught on a rock that he’s fairly sure came out of nowhere. Rick huffs, he thought he’d be a little more coordinated and actually feels a bit like an idiot compared to Daryl who walks through the trees and trails like he was born to do it. Daryl pulls him in close as he heaves Rick off the ground and wraps an arm around Rick’s waist. 

“Good thing yer pretty, fer a guy,” Daryl whispers before pulling close and pressing their lips together. Rick laughs against Daryl’s lips and pushes a hand into Daryl’s hair, his fingers skirt the edges of the curved scar tissue, rough and raised under his hand. Daryl jolts at the touch, breaking the kiss and pulling back.

“Shit, sorry I forgot.” Rick says quickly and with a grimace. 

“S’allright, keep catchin it by accident, reckon I need ta get it checked out.” Daryl says, lifting his hand to smooth his hair back into place. 

“Tell you what, I’ll take a look at it when we get back alright?” Rick tells him, worried that the wound could still become infected. 

Amazingly, Rick manages to keep his footing as they make their way through the trees and Daryl leads them to a little meadow with a small creek running through it. Rick lowers himself onto the grass and Daryl takes up the spot beside him, taking the pack and pulling out the water and snacks and laying them out before lying back with his arms underneath his head. 

The meadow is filled with flowers and Daryl must notice Rick looking at them all because he sits up and starts pointing them out one by one, telling Rick their names and little bits of information about them. 

“That one over there with all them butterflies s’called black cohosh, n’ see that one right there?” Daryl points out a spiky looking plant with white flowers that look a little like snow from this far away, “S’called snakeroot, used ta be used on snakebites,” Rick nods, he’d heard of that before actually. “N’ that one right there’s called fly poison, Merle n’me used ta grind it down n’ add some honey n’ use it when we were out huntin’ n’ dryin out meat ta keep the flies off it.” 

By the time Daryl goes quiet, Rick is floored by just how extensive his knowledge of wildlife actually is, it seems like Daryl knows each and every plant growing in the woods and all the different uses for them. It kind of reminds Rick of a book he’d read as a teenager about an old Native American tribe who lived of the land and used plants and flowers for almost any ailment. He idly wonders exactly how Daryl had learned it all, whether it had been just something he picked up along the way or whether it’s something that he’d read or learned from a family member. Rick doesn’t ask many questions, just sits in the sunshine with his sleeves rolled up and enjoys the soft, soothing rumble of Daryl’s voice as he talks more than Rick has ever heard him in one go. There’s something so soothing about lying out in the middle of nature surrounded by animal calls, the soft rustling of the breeze through the trees, and the water rushing over the rocks in the creek. 

Rick is almost dozing when Daryl nudges his shoulder and he opens his eyes to find Daryl lying on his side, bracing himself on his good arm and looking down at Rick with soft blue eyes highlighted by the dappled sunshine. 

“Should head back soon,” Daryl says quietly, brushing a loose strand of Rick’s hair away from his face and pushes it back behind his ear. Daryl stares at Rick long enough that Rick begins to feel a creeping sense of insecurity under such scrutiny, the calculating narrowed gaze flitting from feature to feature like he’s trying to memorize Rick’s face as it looks out over the meadow. Rick is just about to move but instead, he closes his eyes and relaxes, letting Daryl look as long as he wants. 

Daryl’s fingers gently trail down the side of Rick’s face, brush lightly over his lips and across his jaw. They make their way down Rick’s throat and gently caress over the skin exposed at the base of Rick’s neck where bare skin meets the first few strands of curly chest hair. The touch is so light and exploratory that it makes Rick’s breath speed up a little as he lies as still as he can and loses himself in the sounds around him and the careful feel of Daryl’s fingers learning him. 

“Never figured I’d run inta ya again, ain’t never been that lucky before,” Daryl says quietly as his fingers pop the first button of Rick’s shirt open, exposing another inch of skin. Rick cracks one eye open a tiny bit but Daryl’s eyes are focused on his chest, so he closes them again and smiles. 

“Pretty lips,” It’s even quieter than a whisper and Rick isn’t entirely sure Daryl meant him to hear it. “Figured I’d prolly end up alone, maybe get me a dog or somethin’ ta keep me company. Thought about it, gettin’ out there n’ meetin’ someone but I ain’t never been great at talkin’ ta people.” Daryl slowly undoes the next button down and slowly slips his fingers into the gap. “Actually thought I was still buzzin’ on the meds when I woke up n’ saw ya sittin’ by my bed back in hospital ya know?” Rick opens his eyes a little bit again and his smile widens when he sees that wonderful lopsided smirk playing at the corners of Daryl’s mouth again. 

“Dale told me, that day ya took me down the garage? Told me ta take a risk, put mysel’ out there for ya n’ let the cards lay however they fall, somethin’ like that anyway,” Daryl laughs and Rick wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down for a kiss that starts off soft and sweet but quickly turns heated when Daryl presses his tongue against Rick’s.

“How's it kissin’ you feels so damned good, Rick?” Daryl breathes against Rick’s lips.

“I reckon you might like me, just a little bit,” Rick grins, running his thumb over the skin underneath Daryl's ear. 

“Pft!” Is Daryl’s only response before kissing him thoroughly once more. It's hot and heavy and Rick’s hands begin to wander until Daryl sighs into Rick’s mouth before pulling away and laying on his back once more. 

“Gotta head back,” Daryl finally says after a few minutes of silence where the only sound is the frantic chirping of a bird in one of the trees nearby. 

“Yeah,” Rick sighs. He could happily stay out here with Daryl for hours. The prospect of heading home to his empty, soulless flat is suddenly very unappealing and it puts a damper on Rick’s good mood. Rick’s stomach rumbles and he wrinkles his nose at how loud the sound is. 

“C’mon, I'll cook ya up a decent lunch. Then you wanna take a drive inta town? Gotta get some stuff if the guys ‘r gonna come for the cookout,” Daryl adds, pushing himself up from the ground awkwardly. Rick stands, fastens the buttons on his shirt and then repacks the empty bottles and plastic tubs back into the bag and hefts it onto his own shoulders for the trip back to give Daryl's leg and shoulder a rest. Daryl's movements are much stiffer as they begin to head back to the main trail and Rick makes a mental note to make sure Daryl takes some meds with his lunch. 

“Thanks for bringing me out here Daryl, think that might’ve been the most relaxing morning I've had in years,” Rick says as they make their way back to the cabin, walking slower this time to accommodate for the pronounced limp that has crept up on Daryl. 

“Ain't nothin. Was meant to be out in the woods, spent most my childhood outside tracking n’ huntin, feels more natural ta me than bein’ in the city,” Daryl explains and Rick can honestly say he can't begin to imagine Daryl living in an apartment block, not after seeing how perfectly he fits into nature. 

It takes them a little longer to get back than the trip out had taken but Rick enjoys every moment and finds himself pointing out some of the flowers Daryl had told him about in the meadow. He feels a little tingle of pride every time Daryl confirms it when he manages to correctly identify a flower and Rick wonders how long it would take Daryl to teach him how to hunt deer. 

Daryl makes Rick lunch as promised, nothing fancy just sandwiches loaded up with three different types of meat and enough lettuce to satisfy a family of rabbits for a week and Rick drives them both into town for supplies. They buy beer and food for the grill in preparation for the weekend and Daryl asks quietly if Rick would prefer to stay at his place for a few more days. Rick can’t think of anything better and swings by his apartment to grab some more clean clothes, pick up the mail and packs two spare uniforms into the bag as well. He has a few more shifts left before the weekend comes around but there’s no reason he can’t stay with Daryl and head to work from there instead. 

The drive back to Daryl’s place is quiet, Daryl’s arm hangs out of the window and he hums quietly along to the radio as they go. Rick’s mind is busy, thinking back to the meadow, to last night and this morning, how wonderful it had felt to wake up next to Daryl and to feel their bodies moving against one another. 

When they finally pull back up at the cabin, Rick manages to get himself out of the truck before Daryl even reaches for the door handle. As soon as Daryl plants his feet on the floor and shuts the door behind him, Rick has him pressed into the side of the truck and kisses him fiercely, letting his hands work quickly over Daryl’s chest and hips. 

“Couldn’t stop thinking about last night on the way here,” Rick says as he works his mouth down the length of Daryl’s neck, smirking when he hears the sharp intake of Daryl’s breath and the feel of the fluttering pulse under Rick’s lips. 

“Really?” Daryl breathes holding Rick’s hips and pulling them close. 

“Mhm,” Rick grunts, lifting his hands to slip under the hem of Daryl’s shirt.

“Better get yer ass inside quick then Grimes,” Daryl says, the sound coming raspy and rough like he’s smoked too much. Rick pulls away and rushes to pop the trunk and grab the groceries in a hurry and ignores Daryl's gentle chuckle as he moves quickly to unpack the truck before anything spoils. 

“Yer worse than a teenager ya know, Rick,” Daryl laughs when Rick fumbles with one of the bags. 

“I swear you make me feel like one again, Daryl,” Rick says and he realizes he’s deadly serious. Being with Lori had been nice, sweet and stable. Being with Daryl feels like standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon and feeling the wind rushing up at you from the ground and threatening to pull you over the edge.

He realizes with a shock that he’s never felt this way before. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final instalment!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This is it :D the final chapter which I hope you all enjoy. There is of course an epilogue that I'll post on Tuesday but that's it, a years worth of story writing and it's all done and out there for you all!

“Rick, grab me somethin’ ta stick these burgers on will ya?” Daryl calls from the front yard where he’s standing in front of the grill with his sleeves rolled up, his olive green shirt stretched taut over his broad shoulders, the hair at the nape of his neck sweaty and sticking to his skin in the afternoon heat. As Rick approaches, Daryl turns to him and Rick suddenly bursts out laughing. Daryl has a navy apron tied around his waist with a little white outline of a cartoon pig on the front sporting the words ‘ _ Real men like their pork pulled _ .’

“Jesus Daryl,” Rick snorts, when he finally catches his breath. Daryl narrows his eyes then looks down at the apron, shrugging a shoulder and reaching out for the tray of sausages in Rick’s hands and setting them down beside the grill. 

“S’present from Dale last year,” Daryl says as if the apron isn’t a giant innuendo. He almost sounds nonchalant but Rick knows better, he’s seen the letter and hand drawn picture pinned to the fridge inside the cabin. It was from the Mother and Daughter Daryl had rescued from the car the night he was injured. Then there was the abstract piece of art Axel had given him, the knitted blanket from Miranda Morales and Rick is pretty sure that Daryl still has the motorcycle magazine that Rick brought him in the hospital still lying around. Daryl might try and pretend these little trinkets mean nothing, but it’s obvious to Rick how he cherishes each and every one of them. 

Rick’s just about to walk back towards the kitchen, where Miranda is busy dishing up salads when Daryl catches him by the arm and leans in to whisper in Rick’s ear. “S’true though,” Daryl says before straightening up and turning back to the grill, leaving Rick with a hint of heat spreading across his cheeks and some very inappropriate images racing through his head. He’s still standing there, his eyes focused on the back of Daryl’s head when he hears the sound of tires on the drive and he turns to see Carol’s little black Hyundai rounding the corner. Eliza and Louis must’ve heard it too because they come tearing around the side of the cabin and run right up to the car, pulling the back door open and introducing themselves to Sophia in an excited rush. Sophia, Rick can see, looks a little shell shocked. Her freckled face is flushed pink and her big eyes dart around the cabin. She soon climbs out however, and allows herself to be lead to where the kids are busy making a den at the edge of the treeline, giving a quick smile to Rick as she walks past. 

Carol beams at Rick as she exits the car and has a quick look around at the woods surrounding them. She looks tired, Rick notices the bags under her eyes and the pale tint to her skin and makes a quick mental note to ask her if she needs someone to watch Sophia for her while she catches up on some well needed rest. He moves around the car and pops the trunk, just knowing that Carol will have been cooking food in preparation and isn’t disappointed. 

“Carol, you didn’t have to bring all this you know?” Rick chuckles as he reaches in and grabs a salad dish and a box of cookies. 

“Well, Sophia wanted to help out and you know how she gets.” Carol grimaces, grabbing the cooler and lowering it to the dirt strewn floor. “So, where is he then?” she adds in a whisper with a dangerous gleam in her eye. 

“He’s by the grill,” Rick grins, stacking the dishes on top of each other while being careful not to ruin anything. “He’ll be glad you both came.” Rick leads the way round back to where Daryl is carefully flipping burgers over and laughing shyly at something Axel has just said. Rick feels a rush of affection at seeing how reserved Daryl is, even with those he knows best and a twist in his chest to think that he gets to see Daryl completely relaxed and in his element. He wonders, as both men look up at them as they approach, whether he’s the only one in Daryl's adult life who’s been close enough to see the man behind that shy exterior. 

“Well, Mr. Dixon,” Carol says as she carefully drops the cooler onto one of the fold up tables covered in sauces and salads. “You’re sure looking a lot better than the last time I laid eyes on you.” Carol seems to immediately understand that Daryl isn’t one for casual hugs as a greeting, instead she gently pats the side of his arm once before stepping back and giving him his space again. Daryl blushes and Rick guesses that he’s probably thinking about how Carol has basically seen him with his ass hanging out of a hospital gown more than once. 

“Ya know damned well ya ain’t gonna call me Mr. Dixon,  _ Nurse Peletier,”  _ Daryl snorts. One of his eyebrows rises halfway up his forehead and his mouth twitches at the corner. When Carol bursts out laughing suddenly, Rick realizes that he’s somehow missed an inside joke here. 

“Nice to see you again too Daryl,” Carol grins, then turns her head towards Axel. Rick looks at the same time and no one in a half mile radius could fail to miss the way the red headed, ex con is looking at Carol in that moment. Rick’s eyes flicker back towards Daryl, wondering whether that is the way they look at each other but Daryl is still looking between Carol and Axel and by the looks of it, is getting the same message Rick is himself. 

“Carol, s’one o’ the nurses tha’ looked out fer me,” Daryl says as he nudges Axel on the shoulder. “Axel here works fer me down the lot.” He adds to Carol who’s looking Axel over and smiling. 

“Y’all need any help gettin the car unloaded?” Axel says after a short nod towards them both. Rick waves his hand behind him in a ‘have at it’ gesture and, when Axel makes off to Carol’s car, Rick puts his hands on Carol’s shoulders and turns her round, following up with a gentle nudge for her to go help and a sly wink as she goes.    
  


Rick couldn’t have imagined a more perfect way to spend a Sunday than lounging around on at the edge of the woods, surrounded by those he now considered to be friends and family. Sophia had quickly warmed up to the Morales kids, their mom’s busy working and chatting away in the kitchen. Everyone found a moment or two to come and talk to Rick, telling him tales of Daryl through the years and asking him to tell them in turn about Daryl as a teenager. In fact, everyone was so eager to find out more about Rick that he really hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to Daryl all afternoon. Every time Rick looked over, Daryl was in quiet conversation with someone, sharing half smiles as he worked the grill and handed out beers. From time to time, Daryl would seem to sense Rick’s eyes on him and would catch Rick’s gaze. Those little looks between them felt precious, a secret between each other and whenever Daryl’s face warmed and his eyes fluttered down to the ground Rick felt like he could almost hear the direction Daryl’s thoughts were straying to.  _ That  _ felt like a promise.  

Dale found Rick sometime in the afternoon when everyone else was busy clearing up and casually suggested they take a short walk past the treeline. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you son,” Dale says quietly and without judgement. Rick grins, he can’t help it. For a moment he’s transported right back to high school and leaning against the back of the science building, stale cigarette passing back and forth between Daryl’s fingers and his own. “I have to admit, I was starting to worry that kid was married to his work before you came along. You’re good for him, anyone can see it. Just don’t break his heart, Daryl’s gone through enough already in his time.” Dale’s eyes are warm and friendly but there’s a fierceness behind the warmth that should frighten Rick in the same way a father holding a shotgun on prom night should. But instead it just makes Rick eternally thankful that Daryl has someone like Dale in his life, a real father figure, someone who looks out for him and loves him like a father should. 

“I’m a bit old for the ‘ _ hurt my son and I’ll bury you out in the woods _ ’ talk Dale,” Rick laughs and catches the tender wrinkling at the corners of Dale’s eyes. “But I appreciate the sentiment,” Rick pats Dale on the upper arm and leaves his hand there. “I was crazy about him as a kid, I just didn’t understand then you know? Did he tell you that?” 

“Daryl isn’t one for sharing much Rick. I knew from that first day you drove him down to the garage, just by looking at him and seeing you both together.” Dale smiles kindly and Rick wonders how? How could Dale have seen in a few moments something that, at the time Rick hadn’t fully figured out. “I’ve watched Daryl almost every day since he moved up here, helped him out with the cabin, the garage, helped him deal with his brother’s death.” Dale looks sombre all of a sudden and turns away from Rick and out into the woods. “Losing Merle was hard on him, I wasn’t sure how long he’d keep denying himself a happy ending.”

Rick thinks that one over for a few moments. Daryl rarely speaks of Merle and Rick knows it’s because losing his brother was hard. Harder than losing his parents really because, by all accounts Merle had been a better parent to Daryl than their true Mother and Father had been. 

“I can’t guarantee him a happy ending,” Rick says finally, scuffing the ground with the tip of his boot. “But I sure wanna try.” He adds as much emotion as he can manage, somehow  _ needing  _ Dale to understand the depth of his feeling for Daryl. Maybe Rick’s not sure how Daryl would take it if he really knew, whether it would be too much too soon. But sometimes inside Rick’s chest is telling him that it’s ok for Dale to understand. 

“I love him.” Rick adds in a voice no louder than a whisper, cracked and raw with the sudden rush of emotion catching in his throat and trying to hang onto the words and keep them contained. Dale looks at Rick, his eyes searching over Rick’s face, reading him carefully. 

“He knows,” Dale says finally, reaching out and patting Rick gently on the back. “So do I, son.” 

When they return to the cabin, everyone’s gathered on the ground outside, lounging and laughing while the kids run in and out of the trees. Daryl is sitting on the porch steps chatting quietly with Carol, and Rick just hopes that she’s not making him feel too uncomfortable. Daryl looks up as Rick approaches and the smile that brightens his face for a moment causes Rick’s stomach to drop. He loves Daryl. Of course he does, probably did as a kid and that flame has been coaxed back to life once more. Still, standing here and watching Daryl share a look that is for Rick and Rick only, it hits him like a sledgehammer to the kneecap and he needs a moment to calm his thrumming heartbeat and racing mind. 

Rick makes his way into the cabin and locks himself in the bathroom. He braces his hands on the sink and lets his head drop, looking down into the basin. When Lori left, Rick had honesty thought for a while that he wouldn’t find someone to love again, yet here he is completely head over heels for Daryl Dixon. It feels wonderful and terrifying all at once. A weird sort of twisting, clenching deep down in his gut like the first time riding a roller coaster or his first time out in the patrol car as a rookie. He runs the tap and cups the cool water in his hands, lifting them to his face and dragging them over his eyes and jaw. When he looks in the mirror he’s almost surprised to see his own face looking back at him. The revelation seems so massive he’d expected to see the change etched out across his features. Rick dries his hands and takes a deep breath before unlocking and opening the bathroom door only to find Daryl leaning against the wall just beyond. 

“You good?” Daryl says quietly, his eyes roaming quickly over Rick’s features and the damp strands of hair surrounding his face. Rick has no idea how long he’s been in the bathroom dealing with his little epiphany but it must have been long enough for Daryl to get worried and come looking for him. Rick smiles and walks right up into Daryl’s space, watching as Daryl’s features soften. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Rick says as he reaches out and lays his hands on Daryl’s hips. He leans in and presses a single, gentle kiss right over Daryl’s beauty mark before stepping back and smiling. “You’ve got some great friends, Daryl.” He adds. 

“Mhm,” Daryl hums, his eyes still slightly narrowed. “Ya sure yer alrigh’?” Rick nods and withdraws his hands, grasping Daryl’s and holding their palms together. Daryl’s fingers wrap around Rick’s knuckles and his thumb immediately starts drawing circles over Rick’s skin, sending a light tingle across Rick’s flesh. 

“C’mon,” Rick nods towards the front of the house where everyone’s still gathered. “I heard Carol mention she made apple pie. Hey any chance you’ve got some ice cream stashed in one of those freezers?” Daryl snorts and squeezes Rick’s hand before letting go and brushing past him towards the kitchen.

“Yer a kid,” Daryl chuckles quietly, “Ya know that righ?” It’s not the first time Daryl’s called him that and Rick joins in the laughter because he’s well aware of his faults and is glad they’re a source of amusement for Daryl. 

Daryl finds a box of ice cream tucked right at the back of the freezer, surrounded by endless bags of cubed meat and pre-cooked meals and they carry it out with the pie to the yard to dish up. The kids are the first in line to be served and Daryl, Rick notices, puts an extra helping of ice cream on each of their plates before shooing them off to go eat. 

“Rick, Carol was just telling me you’re looking for a new apartment?” Miranda asks as he spoons some pie onto her plate. “There’s a new building about three blocks down from us that are renting out right now. You should look into.” She waves off the offer of ice cream and groans with her first bite of pie. 

“Haven’t had a chance to look round much just yet,” Rick says with a shrug. It’s true, Rick’s lease is up next month and received the letter about it just the other day. He always renewed his contract but the apartment doesn't really feel like home any longer. It feels like an empty shell and a reminder of how low his life had become before he’d found Daryl again. Only a month or two ago he’d stood in his kitchen and debated what colour he would finally put on the walls but when the notice came through, he realized he no longer wanted to live there anymore. 

“Well, let me know if you want to go and have a look, I’ll write the address down for you.” Miranda says before heading over to her husband and settling back down on the ground. Rick watches as Morales draws his wife in with one arm around her shoulder and kisses her hair lightly. Daryl nudges him with his hip, drawing in his attention and Rick turns with an eyebrow quirked up in question. 

“Ya never said,” Daryl says quietly, a faint frown pinches his features and makes his eyes look even narrower than they usually are. 

Rick feels a little bad about not telling Daryl he was looking for a new place but honestly, he’s been swamped with work and he’d only gotten the letter the other day. Carol had just happened to be on the phone at the time and he’d told her that he wanted to move out, start somewhere new. “Didn’t even cross my mind, honestly I’ve not been looking. I just know I don’t want to live in that apartment anymore. Too many dull memories you know?” 

Daryl nods, shrugs one shoulder and worries at his bottom lip with his teeth. Rick secretly loves it when Daryl does that, his sharp canines flash white against the pink of his lips and Rick has no idea why the sight of those teeth always make his blood run hot but it does. He swallows down the sudden urge to pin Daryl against the siding on the house and kiss him until they’re both breathless. They’ll have plenty of time to do that later, when everyone’s gone home. The sudden rush of heat must be plain as day across Rick’s face because Daryl’s lips spread into a mischievous lopsided grin and Daryl’s eyes darken a fraction. 

It’s going on ten o’clock when the last of the group bundle into Dale’s truck and head home for the night, everything’s been cleared away and put back where it lives and Rick can honestly say he’s had the best day and evening he’s had in longer than he can remember. It’s been years since he was surrounded by friends chatting and drinking beer around the grill and by the time the red glow from the tail lights disappear Rick feels exhausted. Good, but exhausted. 

Rick leans against the railing around the porch, his arms crossed one over the other in front of him as the cool night breeze flutters through the curls at the base of his neck. He hears Daryl step behind him and can feel the heat of his body as he moves in close. Daryl’s hands slip gently under the hem of Rick’s shirt and they’re firm and warm against Rick’s skin. 

“Ya tired?” Daryl asks and his voice is low and raspy, it makes Rick shiver and lean back against Daryl’s chest. 

“Not really,” Rick says with a grin that Daryl can’t see but can surely hear. 

“Good,” Daryl all but growls, pulling Rick’s hips back against him, letting Rick feel the swell of his cock hidden within his loose jeans. Rick turns in Daryl’s arms and pulls him in for a kiss that starts off sweet and loving and makes Rick’s heart thump heavily inside his chest. Daryl’s tongue sweeps across Rick’s lips and Rick responds easily, taking the kiss from gentle to hungry in a split second. He runs his own hands up Daryl’s bare arms, tracing the muscles up across Daryl’s shoulders until he can bring his fingers to the buttons running down Daryl’s shirt, plucking them open one by one. 

Rick pushes Daryl’s shirt off his body and is surprised when Daryl lets the fabric fall to the ground before pawing almost desperately at Rick’s clothes until they’re both bare chested and pressing against each other. The railing digs into Rick’s back but Daryl's hands roaming up and down Rick’s sides and pressing up into his hair as he licks his way into Rick’s mouth makes him forget all about the discomfort. Rick pulls back to breathe and Daryl tucks his face into Rick’s neck, mouthing at the skin as his hands come around so that his thumbs can rub gently over Rick’s nipples. 

Rick’s hands fall to Daryl’s pants and he stops with the fastening between his fingers, waiting for Daryl to say no, to move inside. But he doesn’t. His mouth continues worrying at the skin stretched tight across the tendons in Rick’s neck and he grinds his hips into Rick’s hand, dying for the friction and letting out a small growl when the heel of Rick’s hand presses against his cock. He quickly undoes Daryl’s pants and pushes them down, exposing his bare thighs and straining cock to the night air. Daryl shivers once then reaches down to tear open Rick’s jeans, push them down and slip his fingers beneath the soft jersey fabric of his boxer briefs until his hand closes around Rick’s cock and pulls it free. 

Daryl crowds against Rick, forcing him to lean back against the railing until his back and neck arches and reaches out with one hand until it presses down against Rick’s and his fingers slip around Rick’s wrist. He takes both their cocks in his free hand and rubs them slowly against each other while he mouths against the skin beneath Rick’s ear. 

It’s quick and bordering on desperate, like they’ve been waiting weeks to get their hands on one another when really it’s been less than a day. Rick almost pushes Daryl away and drags him back into the house but the low broken groan against his neck stops him short and Rick just needs to get off, needs Daryl to get off out here at the edge of the woods. Needs Daryl to fall apart against him and take him down too. 

Rick reaches forward and grips the back of Daryl’s neck, digs his fingers into the soft skin and loose hair there and holds him close while Daryl’s hips start moving, rotating and fucking into his hand, rubbing his slick against Rick as he goes. It makes Rick’s knees feel weak and he’s glad he has the sturdy wood beams behind him to keep him upright because with every twist of Daryl’s hand he can feel himself getting closer, every heavy breath in his ear makes his cock pulse and drops of precome leak out and smear across Daryl’s knuckles. 

“Daryl,” Rick groans pressing his hips forward, raising onto the balls of his feet before rolling back onto his heels. “Goddamn, faster.” He begs and Daryl’s hand speeds up, his grip tightens and Rick shudders, groaning so loud he can hear it echo around the trees behind him. 

Face pressed hard against Rick’s neck Daryl grunts twice, his hand stutters and Rick feels the rapid pulsing of Daryl’s cock as it gets noticeably harder against his own. Rick feels Daryl’s come spilling up and over him and it pushes him over the edge with a shout that comes out a garbled version of Daryl’s name. He shudders, his knees wobble and his feet feel numb. Daryl’s teeth press into the soft cartilage of Rick’s ear lobe, it makes him shiver when Daryl’s hot breath pants through his hair as he rides out the last echoes of his orgasm. 

Rick loosens his grip on the railing and wraps his arms around Daryl’s waist, holding him close for a moment before Daryl pulls away and kisses the very edge of Rick’s lips with a soft hum. 

“Been waitin fer that all day,” Daryl whispers softly. He releases Rick and reaches down to pull his pants back up around his hips, tucking himself away but leaving them open. Rick does the same and grimaces at the cooling come smattered across his stomach and his cock where it’s slowly dripping down across his balls. 

“Shower?” Rick suggests nodding behind Daryl towards the cabin. Daryl smirks and Rick knows the night isn’t quite over yet. Before Daryl can turn, Rick grabs him by the arm and pulls him back for another kiss, slower this time.

“I love you,” Rick whispers against Daryl's mouth. “I….I just had to say it.” Rick hurries to explain, not wanting Daryl to panic, Rick holds him tight, not letting him move away. He’s nervous, he hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that but after today, after tonight he feels overwhelmed by it and he needed Daryl to know. 

“Don’ want ya ta look fer another place, Rick,” Daryl says equally as quiet, the nerves clear in his halting tone. “Come live with me, here. Know it’s further out n’ ya’ve got work n that but...” 

Rick stops him with another kiss and his palms spread wide across Daryl’s broad shoulders. “Ok.” He says and Daryl pulls back to look at him, the surprise clear as day in his eyes. 

“Ya sayin yes?” Daryl asks, his teeth start to worry at his lip again and Rick reaches up and runs his thumb over the skin before Daryl can abuse it too much. 

“Did you think I’d say no?” Rick smiles warmly. Daryl shrugs one shoulder and looks down at the floor for a second. “Waking up to you every morning? Living out here? Yes, Daryl,” Rick kisses his beauty mark again, runs his hands down the center of Daryl’s back. “Yes,” he whispers against Daryl’s jaw.    
  



	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my last chance to say a massive thank you to TWDObsessive for picking this story out of the bunch and offering to do a cracking job beta'ing it for me! 
> 
> Thank you TWDObsessive <3
> 
>  
> 
> So here it is, the absolute final chapter in this story - couldn't leave you without one last little bit of smut could I?

It’s 930am and Rick is sitting at his desk at the station, trying desperately to focus on the mountain of paperwork he has to get through today. They booked in four drunk and disorderly cases last night and Michonne and him pulled the short straw when they arrived on shift this morning. He’s just finishing up a four page form on a particularly mouthy guy, Thomas Michaels, when he feels the subtle vibrations of a message on his phone from within his pants pocket. He yanks it out, catching his knuckle on his belt in his haste and lets out a sigh of relief.

_ Got approved. Pick the keys up at 11 u gonna be free 4 lunch?  _

“He got it!” Rick calls out, relief and pride clear as day in his tone as the guys in the office all start calling out congratulations, a smattering of applause starts up and a few shout out “Yeah Daryl!” Michonne grins at him from across the desk and reaches out to catch a high five from him, her face a picture of pure happiness that Rick is certain is mirrored on his own. He enjoys the sounds of his work colleagues praising his partner for a few more moments, basking in the pride he feels for Daryl chasing his dream, accepting a few pats on the back and handshakes on Daryl’s behalf before waving them all off and returning to his phone to write a reply. 

_ Told you they’d say yes, guys in here just gave you a standing ovation. Reckon you’ll have more than a few free rounds this weekend. Cant get off till 4 though - dinner instead to celebrate?  _

He’s barely placed his phone back on the desk before it vibrates once more. 

_ Meet me here when u finish, wanna show u the place  _

Finally! He’s been nagging Daryl for weeks to give him a clue as to where the new shop will be. They’d been talking to Dale over the last year or so about possibly stripping out the garage and refitting it for the bike shop but Daryl had insisted that he wanted to keep the garage as it is and Rick has suspected for a while now that he wants to leave it as a sort of shrine. Not just for Dale but for the fact that it was he who gave Daryl a chance when he first came to the city, gave him a fresh start and a new life. 

_ You mean i’m finally getting to see it at last?  _

_ S’mine now, right? 225 Main St.  _

Rick frowns, he’s sure there aren’t any old garages or warehouses down that way and he’s pretty confident he knows the area well enough to know by now.

_ The old barbers?  _

_ Yup, go down Tims after, fancy some tacos tonight. gotta go sign some shit see u later  _

Ever since Rick had moved in with Daryl, he’d been buying up old bike parts whenever he found them in yard sales or scrap yards. People would call him up and ask him to work on their bikes outside of the garage’s hours and the space around their house had quickly become a workyard. Rick would often come home from the station to find Daryl out in the yard surrounded by various bits of engine and dismantled bikes, overalls covered in grease and oil. Rick hated the mess the yard had become because he loved looking out in the mornings and seeing nothing but woodland before him. He’d never complain though because Daryl chasing his dream and doing something he loves and feels so passionate about is more important than any view he could wish for. And of course, the sight of Daryl sweaty, covered in a thin layer of grime with his hair tied up in a messy but practical top knot never failed to drive Rick a little wild. He would never admit out loud that he loved it when Daryl tied his hair away from his face but he’s sure as hell that Daryl knows without it ever being said. The sex they’d had that first time Rick had come home to find it styled like that had been one of the best nights they’d ever had. Daryl had let Rick take him right there out in the open against the side of the house, frantic and almost animalistic. Rick hadn’t lasted long, not with a fist curled around Daryl’s top knot and Daryl’s fingers against the boards Rick had painted before he moved in.

Rick spends the rest of his shift grinning so hard that his jaw begins to ache and almost everyone at the station takes the opportunity to make fun of him for it. He feels giddy, like a child on christmas morning, so proud of Daryl and happy that he’s finally on the road to getting his dream, that he just laughs along with them, too blissed out to really care. 

“Remember our deal right?” Michonne asks a little later on when things have calmed down and they’ve all eaten their way through the celebratory box of pastries Abe had run out to go buy. Rick raises his eyebrows at her question, a smile tugging at his lips and answers because of course he remembers. “I get the first custom built, cheap rate of course,” He says in a fairly good impression of her, she laughs at him, gives him the finger and Rick lets out a laugh at her face she’s all wide mouth, beautiful white teeth and glittering dark eyes. 

Michonne had joined their station almost a year ago now, replacing Morgan who had moved up to Florida to be nearer to his wife, Jenny’s, family. He had been sad to hear he was about to lose the partner that had helped him through so much but Michonne had filled the hole that Morgan left perfectly. Not only was she a fierce officer that made a perfect partner she was bubbly and had this way of making anyone around her feel confident and capable. She was the kind of partner who could see, with one look, if you were having a bad day and always managed to make it better. He’s pretty sure that if he wasn’t completely head over heels with Daryl, she would be the kind of woman he would look for. 

“Yeah, yeah I didn’t forget, but remember you gotta pay for it by helping Daryl move all his crap outta the garage and clean up the yard right? He promised me somewhere we can barbecue without having to climb over a hundred different engine parts for the first time.” She rolls her eyes at him, waves him off and nods in agreement. He laughs again, trust Michonne to try and get out of hard work. 

Rick tries his hardest to get through his paperwork as quick as he can, chomping at the bit to get off work and go check out Daryl’s new place. He’s not been allowed to even see any of the other places he had been considering, wanting it to be a surprise for Rick and he hadn’t disappointed. Despite his plan to bury himself in his work, he can’t seem to take his mind off all the different ways they could  _ really  _ celebrate tonight.

When the end of his shift rolls around he doesn’t even consider getting changed out of his uniform, just grabs his bag and flies out of the door promising the guys that he’ll convince Daryl to let them take him out for a drink when the weekend hits to celebrate him getting the keys to his new place. It takes him no time at all to navigate through town to Main Street and before he knows it, he’s pulling up outside the old barbers. The windows are all whitewashed with emulsion to obscure the interior of the building, all except one that seems to be a window converted into a giant mirror. Presumably so that people walking past can see how horrible their hair was and pop in for a cut. Rick laughs at the ingenuity of it as his eyes rake over the rest of the building. The signs have all been stripped down already, replaced by a simple ‘for sale’ plaque. He parks the car out the front of the building and takes a moment to look around. It’s a busy street lined with a few other shops here and there but it’s just far enough away from the center of town to make it a little less crowded in. Still, there’s a lot of people walking up and down the street and a constant stream of cars driving past and he thinks that once Daryl has the place done up with new signs the place will get a lot of business just from word of mouth. 

“Hey,” Daryl calls as he appears in the doorway, catching Rick taking in the street around him. Rick turns around and beams at him. If anyone else were to look at Daryl right now they’d probably not notice the softening around his eyes, the tilt to his lips and the level of emotion that is written in that sparkling blue gaze of his. Daryl is proud of himself, he’s happy and excited and Rick can feel it radiating off him even from this far away. He heads over and immediately steps right up to Daryl, placing his hands on his shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“Hey yourself,” Rick says against his lips and kisses him again. Daryl grunts a soft little laugh, pulls back to grin at Rick a little and leans against the door frame with a little shrug of one shoulder. He’s not fooled, Daryl might be trying to play it down but Rick can see right through this man of his and knows just how much this means to him, to them both. 

“So, you gonna show me around or are we gonna stand out here all afternoon?” Rick teases, giving Daryl a little nudge and nodding over his shoulder. Daryl moves aside and waves Rick past, placing a hand on the small of Rick’s back as he walks inside and pauses, taking in the surprising vast space around them. 

The whole shop floor has been almost completely cleared out, there are marks in the plasterboard along the walls where the counters used to be, the sockets have been removed and there are darker patches of paint where he thinks there used to be pictures. The only things that remain are the continuous mirror that runs almost the entire circumference of the room and the crescent shaped counter where the till used to sit over in one of the corners. The floor is dark varnished wood, the ceiling is high and painted in a similar colour to the floorboards and there’s two matching doors, one on the back wall and one to the right hand side of the shop floor. 

“Well, it’s pretty huge. Nice, open space for you to work with,” Rick says, turning to face Daryl again who seems to have been watching him as he looked around. “Is it big enough to convert to a workspace though?” That’s something that had been nagging at him ever since Daryl gave him the address for the place, he’ll need somewhere he can spread out, take bikes apart and rebuild them, a stockroom to store the spares and somewhere to keep all his tools. 

Daryl takes his hand and leads him towards the door along the back wall, pushes him through and fumbles along the wall until he finds a switch and flicks it on. As soon as Rick’s eyes adjust to the harsh light he finds himself standing in a bare warehouse and it is huge. There’s more than enough room here for Daryl to have a few different work stations and to keep everything he’ll need along with enough space to have a few people working on different bikes simultaneously.

“I had no idea there was this much space back here,” Rick says as he spins in a slow circle taking in the room with wide eyes. 

“Neither did I. C’mon,” Daryl pulls Rick by the arm and leads him back into the shop front, switching off the light as they pass. “All I gotta do is open up the side a bit, that leads round the front so’s we can get the bikes in an out a little easier. Got a guy up in Cali who’s gonna fix me up with some old parts ta use fer the displays,” Daryl chatters easily as they head back into the shop, never letting go of Rick’s arm as they move. “Axel says he knows a guy who’s gonna come n sort the shop out, get rid o’that one way glass in the office, stuff makes me feel like I’m in some police interrogation room,” Rick raises his eyebrows at that and Daryl throws him a grin while herding him through the door on the side wall. 

The office is a small space painted in a neutral grey. There’s a white desk in the center of the room, a couple of old filing cabinets along one side and of course, the floor to ceiling window that looks, well like a normal window. Rick knows, however, that from the outside it is a giant mirror and he walks over it to run his hand along the surface of the glass. He’s not even sure it’s real glass as he fingers the cool surface and watches people walking right past only a few feet away. It feels like some sort of protective coating layered onto the glass to make it reflective on one side. 

Rick doesn’t hear Daryl approaching him as he stands with his palm pressed up against the glass, silent and stealthy like the natural hunter he is. He doesn’t realize Daryl is even close until he feels hands slipping around his waist to rest across his belt buckle and Daryl leans over his shoulder and plants a couple of sweet kisses along the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. He sinks back against Daryl's chest, closes his eyes and tilts his head to give Daryl more room to lavish attention on him, just enjoying the feel of soft lips against his skin. As Daryl makes his way up Rick’s throat, gently nipping at the skin and dragging his tongue through the rough day-old stubble underneath his jaw, the hands resting on his belt start to move, reaching for the buckle and working it open. Rick tenses and tries to turn his face to throw Daryl a questioning look but as soon as his head begins to move, one of Daryl’s hands grips his jaw and holds him steady. A warning nip on his jawline stops him from trying to wriggle out of the firm grasp around his face and he lets his body relax a little and waits to see exactly what Daryl is planning on doing. 

“Tell me what ya see Rick,” Daryl whispers as he mouths at the skin behind Rick’s ear and sucks the lobe into his mouth. The combination of warm breath against his skin, teeth grazing against sensitive cartilage and the low rumble of Daryl’s voice in his ear makes Rick’s head spin a little, goosebumps break out across his forearms and his blood starts to shift south in little pulsing waves. 

“What?” The sudden fog around Rick’s brain clears enough to remember what Daryl had said and he struggles to understand what he means by it. Daryl uses the hand clamped along Rick’s jaw to turn his head so he’s facing the window again even as his other hand finally manages to get his belt undone and moves to the button on his pants. 

“Tell me who’s lookin’, who’s watchin’ me touch ya,” Daryl whispers and uses a foot to gently nudge at the edge of Rick’s boot and force his legs wider apart as his fingers grip the pull on Rick’s zip and starts to slowly drag it downwards, the sound of metal teeth parting loud in the empty room.  

“Daryl, what are you…?” Rick starts to protest but Daryl’s hand is slipping inside his open fly and he rubs the heel of his hand over Rick’s cock which is rapidly filling and almost fully hard. That first little bit of contact makes Rick’s eyes flutter shut and his toes curl as if they alone could grip the ground below him and keep him steady.

“C’mon officer, Don’t tell me ya never thought ‘bout fuckin’ this side o’one o’them interview rooms y’all got down the station, huh?” Rick’s knees lose a little of their stability at Daryl's words and the way he growls the word  _ officer _ into his ear.  _ God  _ Rick loves it when Daryl takes charge like this, when he lets his insecurities go and allows his mouth to run the show. More often than not Daryl sticks to muttering broken obscenities and rough sounds into Rick’s neck in the heat of the moment, only occasionally letting his guard down and steadily dripping filthy words and indecent instructions into his ear as he drives Rick to the edge. 

“Now, officer friendly,” Daryl growls into Rick’s ear. “Gonna have ta do a little search here,” He says as he moves both hands around to Rick’s hips, pulling him flush against his pelvis where he’s already fairly hard and rubbing himself slowly against Rick’s ass. “Gonna need ya ta put yer hands up on that window there.” Rick tries to stifle a little groan and by the soft chuckle he hears beside his ear he doesn’t quite manage it. A quick nip to the skin at the juncture of his neck has him reaching out and placing his hands against the cool glass, the slight hint of sweat that coats his palms causes them to slip on the smooth surface for a moment before he rights himself. 

Daryl lets his fingers dig into the fabric covering Rick’s hips before dipping underneath the waistband and slowly dragging the navy police department issue pants down to Rick’s ankles where they pool at his feet. Rick feels Daryl's palms circling the ribbing of his socks before they start slowly working upwards, fingers rubbing the curly hairs along his legs as they move. Carefully clipped nails scrape the sensitive skin at the back of his knees and trail a line up his tensing hamstrings before dipping between his legs and caressing the curve of his ass through his tight navy boxers still left in place. Rick can feel his muscles tremble slightly as he feels Daryl’s hot breath through the fabric where they cling to his muscular thigh and a blunt nip to his ass has his hips jolting forward in shock. It only serves to highlight to him how hard he is right now as his boxers shift and rub along his length with the sudden movement. 

“Gonna drive me crazy, Rick,” Daryl whispers from his kneeling position as he makes quick work divesting Rick of his work shoes, lifting each foot so that he can unhook Rick’s pants and sling them to one side. “Look at ya,” He says, running his palms over Rick’s skin as he makes his way back up then moving a step backwards to admire the sight of Rick standing in just his shirt, tight boxers and black socks. “Always did wanna fuck ya with this uniform on.” 

“God, Daryl,” Rick moans as Daryl’s hips press against his ass again and hot hands start to make their way around to spread wide across his stomach, encompassing Rick in the broad span of his arms. 

“Tell me,” Daryl says, working his hands up to work the buttons of Rick’s shirt, popping them open one by one, the heel of his hands rub softly against Rick’s torso as they travel. “Tell me who’s watchin ya.” 

“Fuck,” Rick opens his eyes where they’d fallen closed without him even realizing as he lost himself in the feel of Daryl’s gentle touches. “Across the street, there’s a woman,” Rick starts almost losing the thread of his thoughts as Daryl rubs a thumb over one of his nipples and the heel of his other hand down the length of his cock, catching and tugging on the stretchy fabric still keeping it contained and pressed hard into his belly. 

“Yeah? Gonna give her a show now? Reckon she’d get a kick outta seein yer cock  _ officer _ ,” Daryl’s voice is obscenely rough in Rick’s ear as he grabs the elastic band of Rick’s boxers and tugs them down in one swift pull. “Ya know how much chicks love a guy in uniform.” Daryl’s hand wraps around Rick’s cock and slowly starts to work it in and out of his fist as Rick moans and his head dips down, hanging limply between his shoulders. 

“C’mon Rick, tell me who else is watchin’ me with yer cock in ma hand,” Daryl says as he grips the base of Rick’s cock tight before sliding his fingers up the underside and teasing them around the ridge around the head. 

“Jesus, ok there’s two guys. They’re standing,  _ oh fuck, _ drinking coffee,  _ Daryl!”  _  The words rush out of Rick’s mouth punctuated by short gasps and little whimpers as Daryl’s finger and thumb tug and twist one of his nipples, his teeth nibble at the flesh along Rick’s shoulder and he rubs the edge of his hand across Rick’s frenulum in little circular motions that sets sparks running up and down Rick’s skin.  

“Tha’s right, everyone out there’s gonna see me takin yer apart, Rick. Gonna be watchin’ me run ma hands all over ya, watch ya beggin’ fer it,” Daryl’s never been this forward before, and  _ fuck _ Rick had no idea that voyeurism was his thing but this might just be the hottest thing they’ve done so far. He  _ knows _ no one out on the street can really see them, when he’d stood out there looking in all he’d seen is what looked like a big mirror but Daryl's words make it seem like they really are watching. The way some of the faces turn and glance in their direction give the illusion that they can see inside and Rick wonders if he’s ever been this turned on this quickly before in his life. He’s just about ready to come already and they haven’t even really gotten started. 

“Bend over officer, wanna taste of that ass,” Daryl growls and licks the strip of stubble coated skin along the underside of Rick’s jaw as if to emphasise his point before letting go of Rick’s cock and dropping to rest on his knees behind Rick. He nudges Rick’s legs a little further apart now that they are no longer hindered by his pants and spreads his cheeks with the palms of his hands. Thumbs dig into the crease of Rick’s ass and press lightly along the rim of his entrance, massaging the puckered skin in little circles. Rick leans forward, bracing himself on the glass by his forearms and lets a little breathy gasp slip out between his lips as he feels the warmth of Daryl’s breath against his ass. 

“Goddamn, Rick, you got a sweet ass, man, could eat ya out fer days,” Daryl says quietly, his breath washing over Rick’s skin and making him shiver. Rick jerks when Daryl swipes over his hole with his tongue but Daryl’s strong hands keep him steady, holding him in place as he lightly sucks on the puckerd skin. The sucking, lapping noises Daryl makes against Rick’s ass is so loud in the empty shop and sounds obscene mixed in with Rick’s heavy breathing and little moans that slip out of his mouth when Daryl shoves his tongue right into Rick’s hole. 

“Fuck, Daryl,” Rick moans as two women walk past the window, completely unaware of the fact that one of their local officers has his boyfriend’s tongue shoved deep into his ass within a few feet away from them. It might possibly be the kinkiest and fucking filthiest thing Rick has ever even imagined, let alone taken part in. 

Daryl works Rick open with his tongue for a few more minutes until Rick starts to squirm and his elbows slowly slip down the glass. When Rick almost unseats himself, Daryl presses into him with one long finger, twisting and turning it, searching for Rick’s prostate. Daryl’s tongue quickly starts to circle around where his finger is buried deep into Rick’s body and it feels amazing, the tight pressure of the digit fucking into him and the soft, gentle warmth of Daryl’s tongue licking around his entrance almost drives Rick to the edge. Daryl quickly pulls back, obviously noticing how close Rick’s getting and pushes back in with two fingers, working quickly to pull his walls apart and make room for his cock. 

“Keep ya eyes open, Rick,” Daryl growls as he shoves in up to his knuckles. Rick can feel the angle change when Daryl stands and hears him start to work his pants off quickly with his free hand. “Like bein on display huh?” Daryl rubs the head of his cock along the base of Rick’s spine, his fingers still buried deep. 

“Yes,” Rick breathes and wiggles his hips back.

“Need ya now, Rick, fuck,” Daryl groans as he pulls his fingers free. Rick can feel himself clenching around nothing and he can almost  _ feel  _ Daryl watching his hole as it begs for more. Daryl teases Rick’s rim with his cock before pressing just the tip inside and using his hands to run over Rick’s back, up his neck and into his curls. Daryl’s fingers tighten around Rick’s hair, tugging lightly and forcing him to look up and out of the window at the street before him. 

Rick groans as Daryl presses forward, one long, spit slick slide until he’s fully seated and Rick lets the sound falling from his throat quiet in favour of a few shallow pants as he waits for his body to relax and let Daryl in.  

“Rekcon I ain’t fucking ya enough, Rick, every fuckin time yer so tight.  _ Goddamn.”  _ Daryl grunts every word out, waiting for Rick to give him the go ahead to move. So Rick concentrates on relaxing, breathing out slowly and letting his muscles go lax.

“I’m good, Daryl, now sweetheart,” Rick says in a rush, watching as a truck stops across the road and a mail guy gets out and begins to rummage in the back. And Daryl starts fucking him, shoving him harder into the window until his skin starts to make little noises as it slides across the glass and Rick squeezes his eyes shut because he knows damn well if someone were to walk by close enough they’d certainly hear the noise. 

Daryl grunts and groans as he fucks into Rick with sharp, shallow thrusts and all Rick can do is huff out little whimpers and  _ oh, oh, oh’s  _ as he get’s completely railed. He’s not actually sure Daryl has fucked him this hard before now, it’s quick and dirty and already feels like the best sex he’s ever had. Rick can barely hold on as Daryl moves even quicker, his legs start to shake beneath him and if it weren’t for Daryl’s hand curling around his hip and fisted in his hair Rick is sure he’d fall to his knees and spill all over the floor within seconds. 

“Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ ,” Daryl grunts, punctured by little gasps and the filthy rolling of his hips. “Gonna come soon, Rick,” he adds and Rick moves one hand down to his own cock, pressing hard into the window, his eyes hazy but locked on the mail guy across the road. Rick grabs himself, furiously jerking himself off as Daryl fucks him so hard his hips thrust forward and push his cock even further into his hand. 

“Come on Daryl, harder,” Rick begs and Daryl does, the sound of skin against skin loud and shocking as it echos off the empty room. When Daryl starts to growl in one long, low sound Rick know’s it’s only seconds before Daryl tips over the edge and suddenly, in a furious heated rush, Rick is  _ right there _ . 

“Shit,” Rick moans and tightens his grip on his cock as it pulses and spills so violently his come hits the glass with a wet sound in quick, strong spurts. Daryl’s hips jerk wildly and his fingers tighten against Rick’s hip, blunt fingernails digging into his skin as he comes hot and thick in Rick’s ass. 

“Jesus fuck, Rick,” Daryl cusses as he presses his hips into Rick’s ass as far as they can go, riding out his orgasm with trembling muscles and fingers that relax enough to rub gentle patterns against Rick’s hip. 

When Daryl starts to pull out slowly, Rick moves to straighten himself up, his thighs feel as though they might not hold him up, so as soon as Daryl is all the way out, Rick turns and drops to the floor, his back pressed against the glass and his legs quivering as he pants and looks up at Daryl standing over him, his cock still hard and throbbing. Daryl’s hair is soaked in sweat, his face heated and his lips parted as he struggles to get enough air. The shop floor is cold and harsh against Rick’s ass and he’s about to reach for his pants and pull them back on, until Daryl drops to the floor beside him and reaches out to tangle his fingers in Rick’s. 

“Every time I open this place up now imma think about fuckin ya right here,” Daryl says with a quiet chuckle. Rick turns his head to the side and drinks in the sight of this man who makes him feel so many different things all at once. Daryl is beautiful, rough on the outside but so fucking soft and tender inside. Rick looks his fill as Daryl sits with his head tilted back and his eyes closed, soft eyelashes fanning over Daryl’s sun kissed cheeks, the thin lips that disguise just how talented Daryl is with his mouth and that damned beauty mark that Rick thinks about far more than he probably should. 

“I love you,” Rick whispers, watching as Daryl’s mouth curves up into that crooked smile of his.

“Mmmm, Love ya too, Rick,” Daryl answers, keeping his eyes closed but giving Rick’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Better get this place cleaned up real quick, Axel n the guy’s r comin over in a bit.”

Rick sighs but releases Daryl's hand and reaches for his pants. He stops when he realizes that Daryl hasn’t moved an inch and Rick looks back at him to find him smirking. 

“Just enjoyin’ the view,” Daryl grins and Rick reaches down, picks up his shirt and throws it so it lands on Daryl’s chest. 

Rick laughs at the way Daryl narrows his eyes and grins a challenge at him. “C’mon, got yourself a business to get started with.” 

Five years ago, Rick was a sad and lonely divorcee going through the motions of his life. He worked, he cleaned his apartment and he slept. Rick was just existing, he wasn’t living. But seeing Daryl Dixon broken, bleeding and being packed into the back of an ambulance was like hitting the reset button. Now Rick’s life is full of family and friends, laughter and love and it’s far better than he ever could have imagined. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, commenting, giving the story kudos and of course, bookmarking and subscribing! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it and it's been wonderful to hear what you all think as each chapter has rolled out!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! let me know what you think/how you feel in the comments section!


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